My Mother’s Embrace After 2 Years and 10 Days

Finally, the moment I had been waiting for 2 years and 10 days had arrived.

The moment I saw my mother, I could no longer think of anything else. I hurried toward her and threw my arms around her. All the longing and all the days of separation that I had tried to keep hidden in my heart seemed to burst out in that single moment.

I held my mother tightly.

The tears simply began to flow.

I had imagined my return countless times. I thought I would smile, feel happy, and tell my mother all about my life in America. But when I was finally standing in front of her, I could barely say a word.

I only wanted to hold her.

I only wanted to know that she was still there, right in my arms.

I arrived home at 3 a.m., when everything was blurred and dim, so I could not see my mother clearly. It was only when I held her in my arms that I realized, with a heavy heart, how much she had withered over the years.

Only then could I look at her closely.

I suddenly realized that my mother had aged so much.

She was thinner than before, and her face bore more marks of time. Looking at her, I felt a sharp pain in my heart. The mother in my memories seemed to have been worn down by the years of waiting and longing for her child, who was half a world away.

I held her even tighter, and all I wanted to ask was:

“Mom, have you become so thin and worn out because you missed me so much?

How could these years of separation have felt so long?”

During those two years, I had begun a new life in a distant country. I was busy with work, learning to adapt, and trying to stay strong every day.

Meanwhile, my mother remained at home.

Waiting for a phone call.

Waiting to see her child through a screen.

And waiting for the day I would return.

In that moment, I wished I could hold my mother in my arms forever, to make up for 2 years and 10 days of separation.

I knew that time could not be turned back.

But at least, in the early hours of that morning, I was able to hold my mother tightly and whisper in my heart:

“Mom, I’m home.”