Homecoming

By Melvin Eapen

"I want to see my son!" insisted Mrs Marsden. Her wish granted, she started bawling... as if it isn't him. The police were convinced the 65-year old has either lost sight or sanity. "How can I not know my son... My little kid!"

A hand pressed her shoulder out of civility. "This is the war ma'am... You must be proud... Your kid died serving the country."

A droplet of the beating rain fell on him, a mocking note resonating. His last letter, promising to fix the roof the next time he's home, crossed her mind.

By Melvin Eapen