A factory somewhere in my mind, all steel, all gray shades of black. I'm walking with other men and workers are above and around me. From behind, the voice I can't replay in my mind calls out, "Hey Dad! I'm Home!" The voice I heard was exactly as I remembered before I forgot. There was that deep tone with twinge of a northwest coast accent, a grin, and a little boyish mischief. I spun around and there he was. Walking with two other guys, Aaron dressed in some sort of leather black jacket and welding goggles ran to me and I to him. We wrapped our arms around us and fell to the ground. "He's HOME! My son's HOME! My son's HOME! Aaron's HOME!!" I yelled to everyone. "Look, this is my son! He came HOME! Aaron!! Aaron's Home!" We rolled on the ground hugging and laughing. I heard the laugh I don't remember. I felt his body in my arms.
My excitement wakes me. My arms, they are empty. Oh...right. The voice is gone. Gone from my memory again and the heart breaks with the dream. He's not home. My son's not home. He's not coming home. Nine and a half years of not coming home.
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