Twenty-Five Year Homecoming

Gareth had vanished twenty-five years ago without a trace, leaving behind friends and family who gave up hope of ever finding him after a couple of exhaustive years. Some thought he was dead, or just made themselves believe it so they could forget about him.

He, of course, was not dead. Not so at all. He left without a trace because he was running away, didn't to be found. There were people who wanted to find him who were not very nice people and although he didn't want to keep his parents in the dark, he felt it was better that way.

Gareth went on the run, never staying in one place for long for five years. When he felt relatively safe, he settled down under an alias, but never gave a thought to ever coming home again. He wouldn't know what to do, what to say. It was easier to stay away. However, he married when he settled down and had a child, who--as luck would have it--chose a college close to his parents (if they didn't move). After he dropped Sam off for his first semester, Gareth took a detour, with no intention other than driving around the old neighborhood.

That wasn't the way things turned out. After ten minutes circling the streets around the old house, he finally drove down it. And instead of driving on by, he found himself attracted like a paper clip to a magnet. He parked and stood by the car, staring at the house. It wasn't anything special, just a small two-story building with a patch of grass that passed for a front yard. He walked up and placed his hands on the link fence that encircled the yard and a small flower garden. It looked the same, like he had never left. Memories jostled under years of dust.

And then he was awoken from reverie.

"Can I help you, young man?"

He looked at the source of the voice, an old woman with a cane in one hand and the other one behind her back smiling kindly.

"No, I was just driving by and this house caught my eye. Beautiful flowers. My wife was thinking of starting a flower garden like that. I'll have to tell her about this one."

She admired the garden. "Yes, it is quite nice. Beautiful day too. Good day for a walk."

"Oh. Yes, beautiful. Well, I have to be off now," Gareth said, walking back towards the car. But he had come this far and he had to know. He turned around. The old woman was still there, as if expecting him to come back.

"This was a long time ago, but there used to be a couple that lived here. The Chungs. Did you know them?"

The old woman raised her eyebrows. "Did you know them?"

"No, not really. I just used to live around here. They were kind to me." Gareth's voice was near a whisper.

"Oh? Because I used to live here. I usually have a pretty good memory. What's your name?"

"This--this is your house?" he stammered.

"Used to be. We moved. What is your name?"

Gareth could hardly speak. He wondered how he hadn't seen the resemblance before. Age had added wrinkles and she was shorter now, but it was her. It was his mother. It took all he had to stop himself from running right then and driving away.

"James," he finally managed to say.

"James what?"

"Fong."

"Hmm," she said. "I don't remember a James Fong. But there's more than a few cobwebs in this head of mine now," she added with a chuckle.

"Are you okay?" She looked at him with concern.

Gareth was not okay. He felt sick.

"And your husband?"

"Oh, he passed three years ago. Good man."

"Yes, he was."

"Did you know him?"

"A little. He--" Gareth took two large steps toward his mother and engulfed her in his arms. He started crying. She was so small. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders. But in that instant, he was the one that felt small. He leaned in, whispered in her ear. "I'm so sorry."

He felt her tremble and then gasp. Then she hugged him back, more fiercely than you would expect an old woman to be able to.

"I knew you'd be back."