“It’s me.”
Grandma stared at him.
The room disappeared around them.
My parents quietly backed away.
I followed.
None of us wanted to interrupt.
But before we left, I heard Grandma speak.
The words were barely above a whisper.
“You came back.”
Thomas knelt beside her bed.
“I never stopped wanting to.”
The door closed softly behind us.
For two hours they talked.
Sometimes laughing.
Sometimes crying.
Sometimes simply holding hands.
