I returned home early, hoping to surprise my seven-year-old son. Instead, Bennett begged me not to enter his bedroom and warned that I would become angry. Then a faint voice came from behind the closed door.
I had been away for four days.
When I first agreed to the business trip, four days did not seem very long.
They would pass quickly. That was what I told myself while packing on Monday morning.
But four days was enough time to miss my son’s bedtime stories.
Enough to miss the way he always requested another glass of water after I had tucked him in.
Enough to feel guilty every time he asked, “When are you coming home, Mom?”
My seven-year-old son, Bennett, had never handled my work trips well. He understood that my job occasionally required travel, but understanding did not make my absence easier.
On the first night, he called from his bed.
“Your aunt Lauren checked it twice,” I assured him.
“Did she check the windows?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
I smiled even though he could not see me.
“All of them.”
He remained quiet for a moment.
“Can you tell me the dragon story?”
So I did.
Still dressed in my work clothes, I sat alone in a hotel room and told him the story I had invented years earlier about a timid dragon who feared the dark.
By the third night, he sounded frustrated.
“You said four sleeps,” he reminded me.
“I know, sweetheart.”
“I already did three.”
“That means there is only one left.”
Another pause followed.
“When are you coming home, Mom?”
“Tomorrow evening.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
My meetings lasted longer than expected the next day. I spent most of the afternoon staring at the clock while pretending to listen to a presentation.
Then my manager announced that the final session had been canceled.
I immediately changed my flight.
When the plane landed earlier than planned, I decided not to tell anyone.
I wanted to surprise Bennett.
I imagined entering the house and hearing him shout my name. I pictured him racing toward me in his socks, probably knocking something over before throwing himself into my arms.
Lauren would roll her eyes, and I would laugh while Bennett tried to climb onto me even though he had become too large to carry comfortably.
The taxi dropped me off shortly after four in the afternoon.
Lauren’s car sat in the driveway exactly where I expected. The curtains were open, although I saw no movement inside.
I quietly pulled my suitcase along the path, planning to unlock the door, sneak into the living room, and call Bennett’s name.
I never had the opportunity.
The front door flew open before I reached for my keys.
Bennett wrapped both arms tightly around my waist.
“Mom!”
His hair smelled like the strawberry shampoo he claimed not to like. His cheek pressed against my coat, and he held me as though he feared I might disappear again.
For a brief moment, everything seemed normal.
I closed my eyes and hugged him more tightly.
