Lost But Not Alone

1139 ADI

Mother always said, “Don’t grow up; it’s bad for your health.” I treat her words as law. Although fully grown, I’m not much taller than your average child. This makes acting like one easier. It also helps that her advice was always short, simple, and sweet, like her. 

“I promise I won’t grow up, not now, not ever,” I say, comforted by her words inside my head. My eyes are focused on the cracked wall in front of me. I must be at least seven stories up. “Don’t look down and down does not exist, at least not until you get there,” I reassure myself. Carefully, I choose perches and crevices for my dainty hands and feet, trying to remember which ones I used on the way up. 

I’ve always loved to climb. It’s fun, relaxing, and it helps me clear my head. Descending is a different story. I look down and gulp. Again Mother’s words echo, and I speak them aloud. “You have to return to earth eventually; it gives you strength so you can fly again.”

I close my eyes. “It’s going to be okay, Pra,” I tell myself. “You’ve done this a thousand times. Plus, if you fall, she’ll bring you back.” I imagine myself impaled on one of the dozens of metal bars protruding from the cement building, not dead but gasping for life. A shiver runs down my spine and I push the thought away. “Happy thoughts, Pra. Happy thoughts.”

When I was young, I would climb every tree I could find. Dad would tell me to be careful. He thought I would break the branches and fall. He worried too much. I was never big enough to break the branches. I’m still not big enough. This boosts my confidence and I stretch my leg to a ledge below.

A strong gust of wind washes over me, making it clear how high up I am. It whistles in and out of the cracked concrete, encouraging me to let go. I do not. My knuckles are white as I grip a bent metal bar sticking out from the wall; my feet cling to a little lip of concrete floor protruding from the inside of the building. Looking down, I check how many floors I have to go. “Just enough to have more fun,” I lie to myself, trying to lighten the mood.

The ancient structure I descend is one of the tallest I’ve found in the wilderness. It survived, not as it used to be, but as its strongest parts: a pillar of concrete walls and floors tied together by metal bars. No doors, no windows, no carpets, no nothing, just concrete, metal, and vines. The wind settles and I continue, being extra careful. A section of the wall moves at my gentle touch and I lift my foot. “No,” I scold the piece of loose concrete. “You are staying right there. The last thing I need is you falling and scaring Little Brother. His morning has been rough enough.”

I fill my mind with the thought of the warm stew I’m going to make when I get down. That will cheer him up. I got the idea after I found a few wild carrots and potatoes growing in an old metal dumpster a few weeks back. They are all cozy under the soil by the river. I continue my descent with a smile. Two floors down, I reach the vines that cover the lower half of the ancient structure. They make my life infinitely easier and the last three levels are a breeze.

Finally, my feet hit solid ground on the second floor, and I pull my fingers from the cracks in the wall. My hands tremble, muscles spent. Taking a deep breath, I listen intently for anything that could spell trouble and check my surroundings. The second level is littered with piles of debris and blanketed in green vegetation, nothing edible. The sound of crackling flame and the steady scrape of metal on wood echoes from a massive hole that opens to the ground floor.

Vines pour into the hole and I use them to make my final descent into the mostly dark expanse below. Little Brother sits next to a dwindling fire that illuminates a small part of the massive room. A few other light beams stream in from cracks in the walls and ceiling. The most noticeable light shines from the distant doorless archway at the front of the building. I look at it and then back at my brother.

He gives me a stern look. I know he hates it when I climb, but I’m not going to stop anytime soon. Like a regal king, I stand straight and keep my face resolute, challenging him to make his usual argument. He does not. Blinking and shaking his head, he turns back to his project. I let out a short, sad huff—he must really be tired. I watch as he whittles the end of a straight wooden stick to a point. Three more sharpened sticks rest on the floor next to the fire. He looks more ragged than usual. Blood stains his tattered pants and shirt; he always tells me to ignore the stains, but I can’t help but stare. 

“You’ve been busy!” I say, breaking the silence, plastering on a smile, and skipping to my stool by the fire.

He growls.

Ignoring his irritation, I cup my chin in my hands and rock back and forth with my feet tucked beneath me. I hum a tune in my head, clicking my teeth together to the beat. I hate silence, but I know he likes it. Mother always said to be wary that my mind is louder than others’.

“I think it’s just loud enough,” I whisper to myself.

Little Brother cuts me a glance and I meet his eyes. He is quick to look away, but not quick enough. I saw that. He’s scared again. He’s always scared. I know why—it’s not safe out here, especially for him. 

“You don’t have to be scared.” I smile to emphasize the point. 

His brow furrows. “Go home, Pragmah,” he says deeply. 

Did he just call me by my full name? He must be serious—but this changes nothing. I’m not going anywhere. I’m his light in shining armor, or however that phrase goes.

“Nope, I’m staying right here,” I say, crossing my legs and arms in mock defiance. 

Little Brother stands with a pained grunt and puffs up his chest to show off his size. His head reaches for the ceiling; his shoulders are broad, like Father’s. He tries to hide it, but I can see him favor his left leg as he walks around the fire to my perch. I crane my neck to look up at him, and blink innocently.

“Three days. Three attacks. I can only keep you safe for so long,” he says, his eyes heavy from lack of sleep.

“You don’t have to keep me safe. Look! I don’t even have a scratch,” I say, motioning to my arms and legs.

“I can’t keep feeding you.” Anger builds behind his words as he looms over me, arms crossed.

“I’ll forage for myself, plus you caught three rabbits yesterday. The chubby one alone will feed us for two days if we make him into a stew.” I beam up at him. 

He grabs the back of my leather shirt and effortlessly lifts me off my stool. Keeping my arms and legs crossed, I stick my tongue out at him as he carries me toward the light leaking through the archway at the front of the long-forgotten lobby of the massive structure. I continue to keep my legs crossed until he gives me the look. I hate the look. Rolling my eyes, I allow my feet to dangle, but I am still a good two feet off the floor. With a pained sigh, he places me in the doorway.

Crossing my arms harder, I stare up at him and put on my best ‘I’m serious’ face.

He stares back, unamused. “I’m taking you home.” 

“No,” I contest.

“Don’t make me drag you,” he snarls.

“If you do, I’ll just crawl back. I’ll follow your scent. Just accept it, you’re stuck with me!” I pack assertiveness into my tone. Mother always said to be assertive and to speak clearly. I nod to myself, happy with my execution. 

Rage builds on his features, but not towards me. I see his fist clenching in my peripheral and watch as his shoulder pulls back and he throws a punch that connects with the cement door frame inches from my face. I blink but do not flinch. I know how scared he is, how small he must feel in this big, scary place. I push myself up on my tippytoes, lean in, and kiss him on the chin. I place a hand on his cheek. “I won’t let you be alone out here, and you can’t scare me off. You’re only intimidating to people who don’t know about your warm personality,” I say, mocking his angry expression.

He stares me down as I pinch my lips and furrow my brow, surely making myself look like a fool. My antics work and I watch as his angry expression fades to sadness.

You can’t stay mad forever, Little Brother. I won’t let you. I wrap my arms around his midsection and squeeze. He doesn’t hug me back because Father told him that men don’t hug, and that’s okay. He hugs me by catching rabbits and staying up late at night to watch for other Twilight dwellers. He’s a good brother, whether he admits it or not. “Give me a smile, Little Brother. If you keep frowning, your face will stick that way.” Another great Mother quote that I’m sure he remembers as well. 

I get nothing but a few blinks and a huff.

“Fine,” I say, stepping away. “I’ll get us some vegetables for the stew. That will make you smile.” 

His expression turns to one of concern. I know what he is going to say, so I steal the words before he can open his lips. “Don’t go far, it’s dangerous out there, I don’t have eyes everywhere.” I add my own words. “Don’t worry. I’m just going down to the river, that’s all.”

The tune that’s been stuck in my head all morning is growing louder. I sway with its comforting melody.

Little Brother shakes his head, defeated. “You won’t find anything. Not by the river, not anywhere. Nothing good grows here,” he says, eyeing the vines.

“Nothing grows here without help,” I correct.

This annoys him, but I don’t care. He needs to get used to having help, even if it is only from me. One day, he will see that he can’t conquer this world on his own. One day, he will be ready to go home.

“I won’t come and save you if you get into trouble,” he says stiffly.

“Oh, yes, you will.”

Grunting, he turns and walks back to the fire, concealing his limp.

“I’ll be back! Don’t go having too much fun while I’m gone!” I say, stepping out into the street, now humming the song in my head.

The concrete beyond the doorway is cracked, pushed apart by dozens of small trees and bushes. Beyond, more buildings lie, mostly ruined and covered in green. My three rabbit friends hang from a low branch near the front archway. I look to the fat one. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you. Besides, you need a bath. A really really hot bath,” I laugh at the absurdity of my words.

Behind the massive structure are more ancient roads, equally covered in green. I cross carefully, keeping my eyes peeled for movement. The embankment on the other side of the roadway drops to the small shore of the Potomac River. An island sits in the middle of the flowing current, blocking the view of the prison beyond. I like this spot for that reason. The prison is scary. The voices are loud there. They make me sad and they make Little Brother angry. If you listen close enough, you can hear them whisper through the barrier, even across the water—but not from here. The Island blocks their quiet assault.

I would slide down to the river’s edge if not for the myriad of thorn bushes that block my path. Things grow better near the water. Sadly, this includes plants that scratch my legs and make them itch. Nothing like that grows near Bethesda, but out here, unhelpful plants steal up all the good water. Thankfully, I know a place where there are fewer unhelpful plants. Making sure no one is around, I sneak into a small clearing in the trees where I cannot be seen from the road.

“I miss pear trees,” I whisper. 

Sun shines on a patch of loose soil in the center of the clearing. Carrot stems grow from it, like tiny trees; potatoes hide beneath. A pile of sticks and leaves sits nearby, concealing my newest friends. I brush the foliage away and pull out two jars. Inside, tiny green sprouts bud from potato pieces and carrot stems. “I’m lucky that I found you guys,” I say to all my little friends. “You are going to be really tasty.” 

I’ve been secretly growing these here for a few weeks, hoping that we won’t have to move on short notice. If we stay longer, I can keep up my little garden and we can have infinite vegetables. That would be great!

I pull a small knife from my belt and scrape away at the earth next to the loose soil where my old friends grow, making a neat little hole for each of my new companions. Gently, I place the sprouting potatoes and carrots into their new homes, then pack dirt around each. “There you go. All nice and cozy,” I say. “Now, time for some water.” It doesn’t rain much out here, and when it does, it doesn’t last for long. This bothers most Twilight dwellers, but not me.

I have a secret.

I take a few steps back from the loose soil until I’m a comfortable distance away. I’m not getting drenched again! I will not repeat that mistake.

Kneeling, I close my eyes and start my prayer. “Dear, King Jesus. I’m sorry I haven’t said hi in a while. I was just wondering if you could give me some rain? I know I’m a little far out, but…” With my eyes locked shut, I hear raindrops. This makes me smile. “I knew you could do it. Little Brother is hungry and this will help a lot…” 

I say more words, but they don’t register as my mind wanders. I cut my prayer short as I think of Lucy, my pet wolf. I hope she is doing okay and that Brandon is playing fetch with her every day, like I asked. I’m sure he is; he’s a good boy. I open my eyes to a pillar of rain falling on my buried friends. I sigh, overwhelmed with gratitude for the life I have, yet burdened with longing for the life I left behind. The water drenches the soil and the excess drains off into the river.

“This will get you going, or should I say, growing.” I giggle at my own joke.

It only takes a few minutes before the pour turns into a drizzle, and the drizzle into a sprinkle. Finally, the small cloud, somewhere above the trees, closes its spout. Time to dig up my prize. The green carrot stems are even taller now and brighter than ever. I pull those first before digging up nine fat potatoes. I leave my newest friends in the dirt. They won’t be ready for a while, but I’ll be back tomorrow to pray and get them another bath.

“The only thing we need now is some salt,” I say, thinking of the pantry at home and the big salt block that we would chip pieces off of. I brought a big piece when we first left. It lasted a long time, but it’s gone now. “That’s okay, the stew will still be delicious,” I reassure myself. 

 “Let’s get you guys back so we can get cooking. You can be in charge of the fire,” I instruct the potato that looks most like a face. I don’t give it a name so as to not get too attached, although it would make a good ‘Spudworth.’

“No,” I shake my head, “I will not go through this again. One potato funeral is sad enough.” 

Crawling back up the bank, I head home, or rather, to the abandoned building that doesn’t belong to us, the one that we might have to leave at any moment because of bad people showing up. Or worse, its sudden collapse. I guess I can call it home. It’s where my brother is, and, for now, he’s the closest thing to home I’ve got. This makes me smile. He is going to love the stew. I wiggle with excitement and scurry back, holding the bundle of vegetables close, saliva building in my mouth at the thought of a warm meal. 

Little Brother is not waiting for me outside, so I say hello to the hanging rabbits. They do not respond, as that is not what dead rabbits do.

I am, however, greeted by something else, something darker; a soft, guttural growl. Spudworth flies from my hand as I spin toward the sound. Two wolves are approaching on open ground. Another is pushing its way through the bushes. Tension lingers in the air as their eyes dart between me and the hanging rabbits. The wolf in the middle reminds me of Lucy, its black fur speckled with greying hairs. 

My heart races as I steady my breath and limbs. I study the salivating wolves as they stalk me and my rabbit friends, wondering which one of us they will eat first. Slowly, my hand reaches for the knife on my belt. The other stays raised, willing the cursed beasts to stay back. “It’s okay,” I say, keeping my tone low. “I know you’re scared.” 

The wolf circling to my right snarls. I track it from the corner of my eye, taking in as much of my surroundings as possible. Fear wriggles its way into my mind at the thought of being torn apart, and I close my eyes for just a moment, forcing the gruesome image into the darkness and replacing the tension on my face with a weak smile. Mother’s words echo in my mind.

The world is brightest when you open the door and let the light in.

I open my eyes, ready for what might happen next.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I know a wolf just like you. Although he doesn’t have as much fur. He kinda looks like me, but taller,” I say, glancing back to the archway. “He’s scared too. But you don’t have to be. The light is not gone from this place.” I look to Spudworth then back to the wolves. “You are not hopeless.” 

Letting go of my knife, I raise both hands in surrender and whisper a soft prayer. The wolf that looks like Lucy slinks forward, face unchanged, teeth visible. Despite the voice in my head screaming for me to stand still, I take a cautious step forward. “Our Creator is watching. He knows our pain.” I take another slow step and the wolf growls. “I’m sure there is a wonderful family who would love to pat you.” The black beast’s head tilts, its eyes softening. “Just let go. It will be okay.” It whimpers as I take another steadied step closer. “You don’t have to run anymore.” Its body droops, weighted by shame. The other two hesitate and stop circling to my left and right. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now.” I reach my hand to its now lowered snout. “See? You’re not so scary.”

A streak of movement blurs past my face as a spear pierces the wolf’s side. It yelps in pain and I watch as blood soaks its fur around the wound. Horrified, I swivel my head and find my brother in the archway, arm extended from the throw. Three more spears are at the ready. I open my mouth to plead with him to stop, but my attention is stolen by a sudden searing pain in my side. Looking down I see the black wolf, its teeth sunk deep into my ribs. Uncontrollable rage drips from its hollow eyes. 

I look up just in time to see another spear soar through the air. It finds its mark through the neck of the latched creature. Little Brother’s voice comes over the wind as the wolf lets go and stumbles backward. What did he say? Did he scream my name? Did he want something of me? The scene blurs and my mind clouds as the remaining two wolves charge the front of the building. The world around me spins as the black wolf comes in and out of focus, its chest heaving up and down. 

“Lucy?” I cry out, falling on my knees before the twitching, gurgling creature. “I’m so sorry.” 

Burying my head into blood-drenched fur, I sob. I’m not sure for how long. Long enough for my mind to adjust. In a moment of clarity, I realize this is not Lucy, but it is still breathing. Or trying to. It’s in pain. I can’t save you, but I can stop your suffering. The thought stings, pulling another sob from my chest. Blood sticks to my face as I pull back. Pain flares through my body as I draw the knife from my belt. The beautiful beast watches me with panicked eyes as it chokes on the spear, blood filling its throat. 

I sniffle. “I’m so sorry you got lost out here. If I had found you...” Tears strangle my words. “If I found you earlier—I would have loved you.” Driving the knife down, I watch as life leaves the creature and with it, its pain.

My thoughts rush, yet the air lies quiet. Little Brother? Slowly, I turn, terrified of what I might find. An image of his corpse on the stone stairs flickers in my mind. I don’t find him dead. No. Above two lifeless wolf corpses, he towers. A manic smile stretches from ear to ear, blood stains his clothing. His or theirs? He looks down on me and the smile fades, but the demented pleasure remains. 

I reach a hand to my side, fingers feeling the bite wound. My leather tunic absorbed most of the assault, yet blood drips from the holes, making my head light. Little Brother’s eyes fall to my wound and he takes a weak step forward. His knee buckles, sending him tumbling to the ground. His outstretched arm tries to break the fall. It doesn’t do much good.

“Pete!” I cry.

Scrambling over moss-covered concrete, I rush to him and fall at his side. Using my limited strength, I roll him onto his back and use one of the dead wolves to prop up his head. I do not acknowledge the lifeless creature, I am ashamed that I couldn’t save it, that I couldn’t save any of them. Relief washes over me as I see my brother’s open, moving eyes, but relief fades into frustration as I notice his lingering smile. 

How can you be smiling? 

I know why. He likes being big. He enjoys feeling powerful, conquering things that are violent, like himself. It’s going to get him killed, and she won’t bring him back. Deep sadness mixes with frustration as I check him for injuries. His clothing is soaked but I don’t find bite marks or scratches. A part of me wishes he suffered just a bit, but that won’t help him learn. I clench my fist and pound it into his chest. 

“Ow, hey! What was that for?” he coughs out, still grinning.

I punch him again and again until his smile fades. How could he just kill them? Didn’t he see their faces? Tears well in my eyes and slide out and over the drying wolf blood on my cheeks. 

“You didn’t have to kill them!” I bawl, looking to the still features of the wolf beneath his head.

“I saved you. They were going to eat you,” he says, his features stoic. 

“They were going to be friendly, like Lucy!” A sob racks my chest.

His face stiffens. “That’s not how things work out here. They want to eat us. They are not your pets. They will never be pets.”

“You’re so stupid,” I whimper, my punches growing weaker.

“This world is not kind, Pra. Everything dies out here. Today, it was their turn.”

How can he be so cold? Has this place taken so much from him so quickly? Am I making a difference at all? I turn from him, unable to hold back another wave of tears. 

“Pra,” he pleads, his rage diminishing. “Let me take you home.”

Maybe I should go home. I’m no help out here. All I do is take up space, and smile. That doesn’t help anyone. I don’t help anyone. My mother’s words ring, distant in my mind.

A true smile is more powerful than a thousand empty words. 

“I can’t smile forever,” I whimper. 

Every day is a new threat. It doesn’t matter how many Twilight dwellers he scares off or cursed animals he kills. He cannot fight forever. He will die out here. Will I have to watch? I grit my teeth and turn away from his exasperated stare. What do I do? 

“You take a breath and you smile when you can,” I say, guessing what Mother might say. I long for her real words, for one of her warm hugs. “Tell me it’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not going to be okay,” Little Brother responds, although the request was not for him.

I speak in my mother’s soft cadence to myself, “Everything is going to be okay, my little dewdrop.”

One last tear stains my cheek, and I turn. “Get up, you’re going to bed,” I say, swallowing my emotions. 

“Excuse you?” he replies, shocked by my change of tone. 

“Get up.” I rock him with my foot. The sadness and anger dull as I push them to the back of my mind. I know I will cry more later, but not now. Right now, he needs direction. 

He shakes his head, confused, “You’re going ho—”

I stare down at him with my own manic look and he hushes, probably afraid that I will punch him again. Reaching down, I grab one of his giant mits and tug. My side throbs but I push through the pain. “Get up, stupid. You’re taking a nap.”

He protests but stands, swaying to stay upright. Several times he opens his mouth to challenge me. Each time, I interrupt. I won’t let him stop me from taking care of him. I’m sick and tired of him acting like a brute. The big oaf is going to learn to relax whether he likes it or not. Pushing the wolves from my mind, I drag him to the small pile of fur blankets near the fire. My arm is stretched up and behind me like a child leading their father to a fun dirt mound they made.

“Lie down,” I say, pointing to the bed.

“Pra,” he starts, but I raise a fist, to which he grunts and obeys.

“I will keep watch and wake you if I see anything.”

He says nothing, but rolls over with a pained wheeze. 

“You and me both,” I mouth the words, reaching a hand to my side.

He’s asleep and snoring in under a minute, leaving me and my mind to wander. I take off my leather tunic and pull up my red-stained inner shirt to check the bite wound. The blood has stopped, but bruises circle the holes. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, but it still smarts. I twist right and left, clenching my teeth at the dull pain.

“So much for not a scratch,” I say to myself. 

I pace quietly near the front of the massive room, keeping my eyes down and my ears open for trouble. No one is out looking for trouble; it’s too early for that. Besides, if anyone does wander this way, they won’t stay long with three dead wolves out front. They’ll probably think we are a group of burly men who kill for fun. I glance out at the lifeless mounds of fur and turn back quickly. 

“Even I don’t want to be here right now,” I whisper, and my attention shifts to the light that streams through the hole in the ceiling in the back of the room. Vines fall from it like a waterfall, beckoning me to climb. 

“No,” I say, averting my gaze. My foot taps on the cement floor, sending a soft echo into the open space. “It wouldn’t hurt to climb just a little… I can be back well before night to start the stew.” I bite my lip, my nostrils flare as I sway with energy. “I’ll only be gone for an hour. He won’t even notice,” I look to Little Brother. His chest is moving slowly up and down. “Just an hour,” I bargain with myself before accepting the proposal. “Deal.”

The late-day sun shines bright as I scale the ancient structure. My heart thuds in my ears with a steady, calming rhythm. Certain movements cause my side to throb and I adapt to minimize the pain. Stopping halfway up, I look out to the prison, the city that man built centuries ago, the one they called Washington D.C. Unseen angels dance in the translucent barrier around it, stretching their guard high into the sky.

I continue my climb and find my perch atop a small concrete pillar and sit facing Bethesda, my old home. Its towering hills look like ant mounds poking up from the sea of trees beyond the wilderness. I wonder if Mother is somewhere atop one of the hills, looking back at me. 

“I’m going to come home,” I say, “I promise I won’t stay away forever. I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly.” A soft warm pressure leans against my back and I smile. “Hello, friend,” I say gently. “I was wondering if you would join me up here.” 

My friend sits facing the prison, back to mine while I face home. Her short, straight hair tickles my neck; I lean my head back against hers and sigh. “I’ve missed you,” I say, holding back a well of emotion.

She twists and I feel her eyes as she examines the bite wound. 

“I’m fine; it’s just a little love nibble.” My words are heavy with sadness. 

There is nothing she can say to make any of this feel better and she knows it. She knows me, and for that I am grateful. 

“Thank you for being here,” I say, leaning forward, using my hands for support on the cement pillar. “It’s been a long day—it’s been a long month,” I correct. 

Still twisted to examine the wound, she reaches a hand across her body and around to my side. I wince as it presses softly against the bruised and pierced skin.

“Ouch,” I say, gritting my teeth.

Warmth radiates from her fingers, filling my body with butterfly tickles. I look down and watch as the holes in my side fade to scars.

“That’s enough,” I smile. “I’d like to keep the scars this time.” 

Her hand moves away at my request, and we sit in silence. Looking down, I take in the wilderness. It all looks so small from up here. The tree canopies that speckle the streets look like tiny heads of broccoli. The wolves are nothing more than small dark spots. They don’t feel real from here. It’s like their deaths happened in some distant dream. Does Mother feel the same way about me? Am I far enough away that I’ve faded from her mind? No. I shake my head. She would never forget me. I know she would have followed me if I hadn’t written such a convincing letter. My gut wrenches at the guilt of leaving without a word. But I had no choice.

“I’m not going home, not yet. I hope this is okay. I hope Mother can forgive me.” It feels good to say it aloud. “I can’t leave him out here. He still needs me. Whatever that looks like. I won’t let him be alone.” 

Without a word, my friend reaches back, laying her hand over my own, and I know I have her approval. I feel as she lifts my palm and sneaks something under it. Gripping it carefully in my fingers, I pull it to my face. A leaf. It glows the most vibrant green. I beam at the gift.

“Thank you, May. I’m going to sneak this into our stew. Little Brother will feel so much better,” I smile. “Promise you won’t tell?”

“It will be our little secret,” my friend responds. I can hear the smile in her words.

“Good,” I say, looking to Bethesda. “I will go home, I will see you again, and when I do, I will hug you tight and never let go. But. I won’t come back without him. You will have your son and daughter back. I promise.”

I turn and look at May. She looks back with sea glass green eyes.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Absolutely, Pra.”

“When you see her… when you see my mom, tell her that I miss her and that I’ll be home soon,” I say the words, hoping that I’m right. 

May beams back at me. “I was just with her. We were on the front porch when I saw you climbing. Lucy was cuddling me. I think she smelled you on my clothing.”

My heart swells at the words.

“You know what’s funny?” she adds.

“What?” I say, a tear streaming down my cheek.

“Your mom told me to let you know that she misses you and that home will be right where you left it.”

Note from the team: Did you like this one? Consider sharing it. Sharing is the greatest gift you could give us.

• Copy and share the entire story through email or some other long-form medium.

• Copy and paste the URL on (Facebook, X, Truth Social, Reddit, WhatsApp, etc.) and tell people what you liked about the story.

• Share the synopsis for the story with a friend.

As we work together, this resource will grow.