But then he placed a set of keys in my hand. He had come back to stay. Now legally an adult, he had chosen to leave his mother’s home and return to me.
He had rented a house designed for us both, remembering my struggles with stairs, and used every bit of money he had saved over the years to make it happen. As we stood there together, I realized that love hadn’t been broken by time or separation—it had simply been waiting for the moment he could come home on his own terms.
