Then the door opened.
A tall young man stepped inside.
He was thinner than I remembered.
His hair was darker.
His face had changed.
But his eyes…
I knew those eyes.
“Jory?”
He froze.
Then whispered:
“Mom?”
I ran toward him.
He dropped his bag.
And we collided in the middle of the room.
I wrapped my arms around him.
Held him.
And sobbed.
“My baby.”
His body shook.
“Mom.”
I kissed his forehead.
His cheeks.
His hair.
I couldn’t stop touching him.
As though he might disappear again.
He held me tightly.
Then whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
I pulled back.
“What?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I couldn’t get home.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He began crying.
“I tried.”
I held his face.
“Jory, listen to me.”
He stared at me.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
He collapsed into my arms.
And I held him until neither of us could stand.
