For Lisa, Richard’s homecoming was the biggest present. He had been abroad for four years, visiting only for his father’s funeral.
She examined his round shoulders, muscled biceps, and pruned beard. Her son had grown up. She welled up remembering the day he left home; a lanky lad going far away. But he had come back for her sixtieth birthday.
He pulled back the strings of his backpack, pulling out a tiny box. “Happy Birthday, Mom.” He smiled as Lisa’s eyes lit up at the chocolate cake. She hadn’t touched cake since her husband died of diabetes two years ago.