My mother brings me to the shore every day.
She tells me about my father.
"He was a great man, Liam." She says, smiling faintly with memory flickering behind her eyes. "He would've been proud of you."
"Really, Mama?" I voice. "I mess up a lot.."
"Oh, Liam." She rests her hand on my shoulders, the touch soft and reassuring. "No one expects you to be perfect. No one is."
I relax and beam at her. "I love you, Mama."
"I love you too, William." She smiles and embraces me, and I close my eyes and relish her touch, her warmth. Then she lets go.
"Now come, Liam, it's almost sundown." Her face becomes eager, almost young, and I catch a glimpse, a fleeting glance of what she was like ten years ago. I realize the extreme depth of her love for my father.
I walk on ahead, humming the song she taught me when I was younger. "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me..." My voice is carried by the wind, salty sea air, and fades into the sky.
I'm suddenly frightened beyond belief. My father, William Turner, is supposed to return today. But will he be the man I thought he will be?
My mother senses my anxiety, and she places her hand on my shoulder again. I relax.
We look at the horizon, and a strange flash of green exploded across the setting sun. I stare, and my mother makes an excited sound. A ship, old but magnificent, is sailing toward the shore. Toward us. I see a lone figure, hanging from the mast by one arm, looking in our direction.
My father.
My mother lets out a cry and runs down the hill. I scurry after her, my heart pounding like a drum. They meet on the shore, laughing and crying and kissing. Of course they kiss. Every mushy couple does that.
I stand awkwardly to the side, trying to get a good view of my father, but it's rather hard to do that when his face is completely smushed against my mother's. All that I can see right now is that he is tall, weather beaten, and exactly how a pirate should look.
Finally, they're done. My mother, her face absolutely shining, whispers something to my father. I can hear what's she is saying though. "This is your son, Will."
My father looks me straight in the eye. His face is warm, handsome, and bursting with some sort of controlled emotion. I look him in the eye as well. I feel...warm.
"Your name is Will?" He asks softly. His voice is low and distinct.
"I am." I nod. I smile uncertainly. "You are my father."
He nods as well. For a moment, we stare at each other, hesitant, unsure.
He reaches out a hand. "I know we just met but—" I interrupt him by pushing past his hand and hugged him around the neck, hard. He hesitates, then he embraces me just as enthusiastically. My mother stands off to the side, absolutely euphoric, then my father laughs at her and pulls her in as well.
As we tumble together in a embrace with all three of us, I realize one thing.
I am happy to have my father back.