My hands shook as they opened the door. How many times must I go through this again? But I'm ready this time. My heart is so numb that I could no longer feel anything. I muster some courage and twist the knob and pull the creaking wooden door. I see a man, no, a boy standing firmly right outside my door. His blonde hair cropped short, and gentle blue eyes that have seen too much for their age. His green uniform ruffled as the wind blew voraciously to the east. A brown duffle bag hung next to him supported by his strong shoulder. He smiled, but his smile never reached the little crinkles next to his eyes.

"Hey ma." He said. I stared at him, wondering who he could be. Ma. He was talking to me. He called me 'ma'. That means I'm his mother. But how can that be? I have no children. They all died. All of them. I know. I've seen them. I've seen them lying peacefully in their caskets as they were buried. I looked up at the boy who claimed to be my son. I reached out to touch his rough face. My fingers roamed over a small scar on his forehead. He closed his hand over mine and held it there. "I'm home ma. And I won't ever leave you again." I gazed deep into his eyes trying to wake up from my dream. But I couldn't. Because it wasn't a dream. It's real. He's real. My son, my baby's back. He didn't die. I had convinced myself that he did. But he didn't. He's safe and he's back home. But Justin. Blake. They're gone. They'll never come back to their old ma. I'll never see their smiling faces again. I'll never hear their laughter when they chase each other around. But I have Tommy. My little baby. My deep furrowed eyebrows softened as I pulled him down to lightly kiss his forehead. A little lump in his throat bobbed up and down as he tried to control his emotions and keep the tears at bay.

"Welcome home Tommy."