SOON YOU'LL COME HOME

While listening to "Soon You'll Come Home" from "All Dogs Go to Heaven", I got the idea to write a short story about Pinocchio set to that song. Why not? It's perfect, and Terence and Pinocchio are much too sweet to not write about.

Pinocchio © Disney

Terence and Story © unicorn-skydancer08

Song © Don Bluth

All rights reserved.

Pinocchio sat quietly at his bedroom window, gazing intently at a piece of paper he held in his hands. On the paper was a drawing, one that Pinocchio had done himself. It was a drawing of a little boy standing next to an old man in a field of flowers of every imaginable color. They were holding hands, and they both wore smiles that seemed almost too big for their faces. Above their heads, in blue crayon, in an uneven, childlike scrawl, Pinocchio had written the words FATHUR AND ME.

Pinocchio sighed, thinking wistfully of his real father—old, gentle Geppetto, who had made him with his own two hands from pinewood and wished that he could be a real boy, before the Blue Fairy granted the little puppet life and a body of genuine flesh and blood. Alas, Geppetto had not lived to see his wish come completely true. He had died only a few months ago from an illness they called "pneumonia".

Though Pinocchio was safe in the care of a young, white-haired man named Terence, he still missed his father dearly.

In a way, this drawing—and the memories that were engraved into his mind and heart—were all the boy had left of Geppetto.

All I have is a picture in my mind
How it would be
If we were together

With his index finger, Pinocchio lightly traced his father's features: the big, bulblike nose, the bushy mustache, the bright blue eyes with the square spectacles.

In his mind's eye, he could see his father standing on the front doorstep of their house, waving cheerfully to his son as Pinocchio set off for school.

That was the last Pinocchio had ever seen of him in this life.

Pinocchio would never forget the grief that engulfed him when he'd learned of his father's unfortunate passing. He never would have believed such pure, raw pain could even exist.

Though the pain had softened considerably by now, Pinocchio still experienced an occasional twinge in his heart. Though the child had learned to accept the fact that Geppetto was gone, a part of him still expected to find the old man just in the next room: sleeping, puffing on his pipe, preparing a meal, or working on his latest wood-carving project.

Lifting his eyes to the moon and the myriad of stars that adorned the sky, Pinocchio wondered what Geppetto was doing right now, this very moment, wherever he was.

He wondered if Geppetto missed his little boy as much as his little boy missed him.

Let's pretend that you're far away
Let's say you write to me
And you promise in your letter
That you'll come home

Pinocchio could only imagine what would have become of him had Terence not come his way.

Terence, who knew what it was like to be alone and afraid in the world, had never hesitated to take the child under his wing. He treated Pinocchio like his own son, and of course, Pinocchio grew very fond of him. Sometimes, given Terence's apparent youth, he was more like an affectionate older brother. But either way, he was always looking out for Pinocchio, taking as much thought for the boy as he would for himself.

Even so…he wasn't Geppetto.

As much as Pinocchio loved him, it simply wasn't the same. As warm and caring as Terence was, there was a subtle yet unmistakable difference.

Sometimes Pinocchio fancied that his stay with Terence was only a temporary one, that his father would arrive any day to take him home for good.

At the very least, he expected to receive a message of some sort from Geppetto, announcing that he was coming for him.

Come home to my heart
When you come home,
We'll never be apart

Oh, what Pinocchio would not give to see his father again, even for a minute. What he wouldn't give to be back in Geppetto's arms, to feel his warmth and solidity, to hear him call him "my little woodenhead"—even though he wasn't a puppet anymore. Of course, Pinocchio knew Geppetto wasn't gone for good, that he would indeed see him again someday.

But that was someday. What about now? Pinocchio wished his father were here now.

He knew what Geppetto would say, what the Blue Fairy, Jiminy Cricket, and Terence would all say: wait, be patient, take it one day at a time.

Pinocchio really did try to be patient; heaven knew he tried.

But it was hard.

Getting to his knees on top of the bed, bowing his head to his chest, the child offered a solemn prayer that he would not have to wait too long to see his father again—and that he would be able to wait, in the meantime.

If I keep dreaming of you,
Start believing it's true,
Soon you'll come home
Soon you'll come home
Soon you'll come home
To my heart

When Terence came into the room at one point, to check on Pinocchio and see if he was all right, he was a little surprised to discover the boy curled up near the foot of his bed, on top of the quilt, surrounded by a pool of soft white moonlight. Pinocchio had already fallen asleep. As Terence quietly approached the child and stood over him, he noticed a scrap of paper nestled against Pinocchio's cheek.

Terence's curiosity got the better of him, and he reached down and very gently loosened the paper from Pinocchio's grasp, so as not to rip it.

When the young, white-haired man held the paper in the shaft of moonlight and saw the drawing for himself, he felt his heart dissolve into a puddle. Tears welled up in his eyes, causing the details of the picture to blur.

He had no idea who Geppetto was, having never met him before. But he knew from what he'd gathered from Pinocchio and Jiminy that Geppetto must have been a truly extraordinary father, the kind that only came around once in a lifetime. And, of course, Terence knew all too well how much it hurt to lose the people you loved. He'd gone through the same thing when he lost his mother. Even after all these years, he missed his mother more than he could say.

Looking down solicitously at Pinocchio, Terence acknowledged that you never truly got over missing someone; and that, all too often, you had no idea what you had until it was gone.

Soon you'll come home
Home to my heart
Soon you'll come home
Home to my heart
If I believe…

Carefully, Terence set the drawing on Pinocchio's little bedside table, placing it upright so that it was in plain view.

Then he turned to Pinocchio himself and tenderly scooped him into his lean, strong arms. Pinocchio's only response was a slight moan. With one hand, Terence pulled back the covers, then he just as gently laid Pinocchio back down on the mattress, nestling the child's head deftly against the pillows. All that time, Pinocchio's eyes remained closed. Terence spread the quilts over his little body, one by one, tucking the last one in snugly beneath Pinocchio's chin to ensure warmth.

That done, he stood over Pinocchio and surveyed him intently one more time.

It was remarkable how much Pinocchio had come to mean to him, given the short amount of time they'd spent together. In a way, Pinocchio had become a part of Terence's own heart.

Terence knew he wasn't Pinocchio's true father, and that he never would be. But the youth vowed to always be there for the boy, to help him in any way he possibly could, to make certain Pinocchio would never have to endure this alone.

Slowly, Terence bent down, to bestow a light kiss upon Pinocchio's forehead.

With his lips close to the boy's ear, he whispered but three words to him: "I love you."