A glimpse

It was summer. I sat in the backyard with the cat on my lap, my sister inside, and my mother busy with housework. Bored, I began imagining shapes in the clouds and turning the rustling leaves into characters, weaving stories in my mind. As I stroked the cat, she bit my hand. I looked at the scratches and the red inflamed spots to check for any new bleeding wounds. She hadn’t used much force. I caressed her still. the phone rang, and my grandfather called for me. I shifted to move the cat off my lap but stopped when I heard my mother answer the phone. Through the curtained window, I could see her standing, speaking quickly. She then returned to the kitchen at a fast pace. The cat then had settled beside me.

Not long after, a knock on the rusted door echoed with a hollow bang, louder than it should have been. My grandfather called for me again. I opened the door to find my aunt and her husband standing there, carrying bags and baskets. They bent down to kiss my cheeks and asked where my mother was. Though small and timid, I had enough strength to help them with their bags and lead them to the living room.

“You’re coming with us to see your brother, right?” my aunt asked

My mother appeared, greeting my aunt with quick kisses on the cheek before hurrying to take the baskets from their hands. My aunt and her husband moved to check on my grandfather, who was sitting in the living room.

“Why? Is he coming today?” I asked

“Of course! You didn’t know?” My aunt laughed, her tone teasing.

But of course, I knew, and Joy bubbled inside me. My brother was finally coming home. I had known he was returning today but had taught myself to never expect much, to expect nothing at all.

Half the day passed, and the shadows of night began to fall. I grew tired watching my family move about the house, coming and going like ants. I helped when I could, but when they were busy cooking or lifting heavy things, I retreated to my room. Throughout the day, my grandfather called for help now and then—to adjust his watch, help him shift in bed, retrieve a fallen handkerchief, or give him his medication.

“That's my sweet child. May God bless you,” he would say each time, his voice warm with gratitude.

Lying on my bed, I felt sleepy. The rhythm of their footsteps, the constant motion from wall to wall, room to room, was soothing in its own way. Eventually, they gathered in the room with me, their conversation swirling around flight schedules and plans for meeting my brother. I was too tired to keep up until my aunt said my name, pulling me back to attention.

“_____, she’s coming with us,” she said, glancing at my mother.

My mother gave a look caught between uncertainty and disapproval. so she began to plead her case, her voice persuasive. I felt a pang of uncertainty myself but smiled back at them, leaving the decision to her. all that I could think of was my brother and how lonely I had felt in his absence.

“Okay,” my mother finally said, her tone cautious. “But she stays with you the whole time. She doesn’t leave your side.”

“Yes, and ______ will be with us too,” my aunt reassured her, mentioning her husband. “She’ll stay with him the entire time.”

After a moment’s hesitation, my mother nodded and looked at me with worry in her eyes. “Fine. But make sure you're dressed warmly.”

At these words, all the sleep had escaped me and I was overjoyed. I will see him now, I thought, and imagined him so happy to be home! quickly, I pulled on a light jacket and returned to my mother. she expressed how little I had worn and gave my aunt an extra coat. I won't need it though, the excitement of finally seeing my brother was enough to keep me warm.