She would always remember the day he came home. He had finally gained some height, he had limped in on an outgrown, unresponsive leg. His long hair had been a tangled mess and his face smudged with dirt. When she had run into his arms she had cried…and so had he.
That night she had laid awake in his arms, listening to his heart beat steadily beneath her cheek. In that quiet moment she had thanked every God she could think of from the bottom of her soul for bringing him and his brother home to her.
Years later, she wouldn't remember those things, simply because they didn't really matter. The only thing she remembered was the only thing that truly mattered: he'd come home.