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"I'm comin' home...comin' home

Tell the world, I'm comin' home

Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday

I know my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes

I'm comin' home...comin' home

Tell the world I'm comin'..."

---

Footsteps were heard through the empty house that Margaret called "Home". They were her own, as she walked from the kitchen to the living room with a glass of water in her hand. A pair of desk lamps were illuminated, giving her all of the light she needed. Silence was not in short supply for the vixen, since her husband didn't come home from work until later at night sometimes. The fact that they lived in a more remote area of the Florida panhandle didn't hurt, either. The peace of the night was something that always helped Margaret unwind from a longer day at work, and this particular night was no exception.

Most nights would be rather uneventful. She would simply watch something on the television while her little lap dog slept on the top of the couch nearby. Tonight, while it was still uneventful, was different. It was a day that, as it came closer and closer on the calendar, created more sadness than anything else. August 3rd was never a bad day before, but following the events of one fateful Monday night, this day would be marked by a parent's worse nightmare: The death of a child. In this case, it was her oldest son, Scott Foxton, who was taken away from her. At this point, any kind of a distraction would be a welcome one.

Nothing on any of the major cable networks was of any interest to Margaret, so she decided to go to her mainstay: B-grade science fiction movies. She went into her recorded movies list and selected the most recent listing, a movie that had been recorded the night before. Once she hit the play button on her remote, she leaned back on her couch and patted the top cushion. "Come here, Jasper," she said in her motherly voice. The little Shih Tzu's ears perked up, and he obediently hopped down from his perch. The little dog then curled up in an area just in front of his reclining master, and he received some pats on the head as a reward.

As the first few minutes of the movie played out on the screen, Margaret's thoughts began to wander. Her focus became less and less on the aquatic monster that was destroying the city and more on the day itself. "Sixteen years..." she said to herself. "Has it really been that long already?" She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "It still feels likes yesterday...even after all this time." The moment that she initially wanted to close her eyes, however, turned into a little more than just that. With a yawn and a hand on her pet, Margaret fell asleep on her couch. Her mind, however, was not as tired as her body was...

---

A pair of knocks brought Margaret to a more upright position on the couch. "Don?" she called out. "Are you there?" She quickly looked around the house for a sign of her husband, but everything was as it was. Jasper was no longer on the couch, but she simply shrugged it off. "He's probably sitting on the bed," Margaret assured herself. She looked over at the television screen, which was showing a menu bar of various options. 'The movie must have ended a while ago,' she thought. 'Oh well, I'll try to watch it again tomorrow.'

A second pair of knocks was then heard, and her attention then went to the front door. "Who is it?" she asked loudly enough. There was no answer. Wary of the situation, Margaret slowly got up. "Hello?" she asked in an elevated tone. Again, no answer. As Margaret arrived at the door, she looked through the small hole in the door that allowed her to see who was outside. Due to the darkness, however, an identification proved to be a little more difficult. She could see a larger silhouette, so she surmised that it was a taller male at the door. 'It's probably just the neighbor, Albert,' she said in her mind. 'He never was one for talking, unless it's hunting with Don.'

As she slowly opened the door, Margaret noticed something hauntingly familiar about the man's right shoulder: The jacket that he wore. It was a black and white flannel plaid jacket that appeared to be a little worse for wear, but it still help up fine from what she could see. For a moment, she stopped her motion. A lingering thought crept into her mind. 'No,' she thought. 'There's no way. I'm sure there are thousands of jackets just like it. My mind is just going crazy.' Pushing any faint doubts and additional implausible scenarios to the back of her mind, she opened the door completely. "Is there something I can help...you..."

She never finished that sentence. Her mind went into complete shock at the sight before her. Standing in the doorway was a tall and decently built polar bear. He towered over her much shorter frame, but there was something about him that caused Margaret to become short of breath: His eyes. They were a pure shade of cerulean blue, a shade that she had only seen in three people in her lifetime. One was in her own eyes, the second was her daughter, and the third was of the man standing in front of her...

Her son, Scott.

Margaret's legs began to give out from underneath her, causing her to fall backwards. She caught herself on a small side table as her eyes grew wider and wider. Her right hand made its way to her chest. A frenetic pounding that was her heart met her suddenly cold fingers. Tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes at the warm, smiling figure that stood in the doorway. A dictionary's worth of words was welled up in her throat, but the lump was too great to overcome. Only one word could escape her mouth.

"Y...you..."

The man before her took another step up the porch steps, dwarfing Margaret even more than before. The vixen wanted to move in the worst possible way, but her legs refused to budge. They were using all of their strength to keep her upright and not allow her to faint right then and there. She tried to speak a second time, but all she could muster was a pair of fragmented sentences.

"How...how are you...You're..." she whispered, a noticeable shake in her voice could be heard.

Finally, the man standing in front of her broke his silence. "It's all right, Mom," he said in a soft and warm tone. "I'm home."

Those two words broke what little willpower was left in Margaret. In one swift movement, she pushed herself forward and wrapped her arms as far around Scott's frame as she could. A torrent of tears fell from her eyes as she cried into his shoulder. Each of her fingers dug into his black and white plaid jacket and locked themselves into place.

All Scott could do was look down at his mother and continue to smile. He did nothing to stop what Margaret was doing, letting his arms go to his side while she tightened her embrace. His eyes slowly closed as he took several deep breaths, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him as well.

"Hello, Mother," he finally said after several minutes. "I've missed you too."

Margaret was able to take a few breaths of her own. "You don't have any idea how much I've missed you, Scott! Not one single idea.!"

"I'm so sorry, Mom," Scott said. "I know it's been a long time since... "

"Sixteen years!" Margaret interjected in-between sobs. "You've been gone for sixteen long years, and each day that goes by doesn't get any easier!" She buried her head into his shoulder and grabbed the back of his jacket as if she were to fall if she let go. Scott's shoulder began to get a little wet from the intensity of his mother's tears, but he didn't do anything to stop her. He simply wrapped his arms around her and hugged her softly.

"I know, mom," he said in a softer tone. "I know I left too soon, and for that I'm sorry. I never wanted to see you cry like this."

The grip on his jacket grew tighter. "Don't you DARE apologize for that!" the shorter vixen yelled. Though her voice was muted by her son's shoulder and clothes, it still echoed through the house. "None of what happened was your fault. It wasn't your choice to go."

"But it was my choice, Mom," he said. "I made that decision on my own."

"I know it was your choice to leave that night," his mother replied, "but everything else that happened wasn't of your own free will."

As much as he wanted to say something in response, Scott knew that he couldn't. Margaret was right...after he went out the door, everything else was simply fate. No one could have known or even remotely guessed that the night would have ended the way that it did. The bear's response was not a verbal one, but an understood answer. He simply continued to hug his mother.

Gradually, Scott could feel the strain on his neck from where his mother clung to his jacket with all of her might. "Mom, you're going to rip my jacket apart if you keep this up," he said, trying to break the tension with a sly, toothy grin.

Immediately aware of what she was doing, Margaret let go and stood straight up, wiping some of the tears from her face. "I'm sorry, Scott," she said. "I know that's your favorite jacket. I'm just so happy to see you again after all this time..." She noticed the grin that he was wearing. "...and wipe that grin off your face, young man," she said in her best motherly tone. The two laughed for a few moments in an effort to lighten the mood. "Thank you, Scott. I needed that."

"I learned how to be a smart ass from the best of them, didn't I?" he said with a chuckle.

"And I'm darn proud of that," Margaret said with a new smile. " Well? What are you waiting for? Come in! Come in! Make yourself at home...even though this really isn't where you grew up." She paused for a moment. "Speaking of which, how did you know I was down here in Florida?"

"Truth be told, I didn't," Scott confessed. "I went to the old house first and quickly saw that you weren't there anymore. Thankfully, I was able to hear the new owners talk about you on the phone." The two eventually made their way into the living room and sat down on the two recliners in the center of the area. "I heard the man ask about you, and then I heard him say something along the lines of, 'It must be nice to be down in Florida'. I kept listening, and I was able to get enough information to find you. That's what led me down here." Scott paused for a moment. "The guy that was on the phone...he seemed familiar. Was he a family friend or something?"

"His dad is," she said. "That's Arnie's son. You remember Arnie, right?" Scott nodded. "He and his wife were just down here on a visit last week. They're still up in Vermont, but they're planning on coming down south to get out of the cold."

"Who can blame them?" Scott asked with a laugh. He looked around the interior of the house. "You do have a nice house down here, I must say. Seems like there's more room here than there was when I was growing up in the old house."

"There is, as a matter of fact," Margaret confirmed, "and we got it for a lot less than up north."

"We? Is Dad here too?"

Margaret fell silent for a moment, leaving Scott to wonder what happened. "You probably remember that things between your father and I weren't the best for a little while." Scott nodded again and waited for her to continue. "After you left us, Dale and I tried to keep things together. We really did. It became clear, however, that it just wasn't going to work between us. We filed for divorce a few years later."

"I'm sorry to hear that, mom," Scott said. "Was the split at least a clean one?"

"Oh yeah, it was amicable on both sides," she reassured him. "We still keep in touch as friends. He's engaged to someone new, though truth be told, I'm not a big fan of her. Oh well...he's happy, and that's fine by me. Besides, I'm happy too, especially since I re-married."

The bear blinked a few times at her last sentence. "You what?"

Margaret huffed at his question and formed a small grin. "Come on. Did you honestly think I'd stay single forever? You clearly don't know your own mother." She got up and brought a small photo album over to him. "Go ahead. Open it."

Scott examined the plain cover for a few seconds before opening the book. "Is this a wedding album?" he asked.

"You're not going to know unless you open it."

Smirking at his mother's quip, Scott opened the album. The first picture was a full page photo of his mother sitting next to a grey fox on a couch. He was dressed in a tuxedo, while she wore a deep blue dress. "Is this your new husband?" he asked.

"Good for you...first try!" Margaret joked. "That's Don. We met through a mutual friend not too long after the divorce. He has the memory of a sieve sometimes, but he has a heart of gold too. We got married on New Year's Day, so even HE can't forget our anniversary!" The vixen laughed at the thought, and even Scott got in on the humor. "But in all honesty, he's a wonderful man, and I love him very much."

Scott smiled again. "That's great, mom. I hope for nothing but the best for you two. So where is he?"

"Don's at work. He sells houses just over the border in Georgia. I swear, that man is a Jack of All Trades. He's done radio hosting, dabbled in politics, car sales...you name it, and I'm sure he was employed to do it at some point in his life."

"I'll bet he isn't as good of a cook as me!"

Margaret laughed loudly. "Don could burn water...he's that bad of a cook. And besides, you were a veritable prodigy in the kitchen. You've got me beat, that's for certain."

Scott blushed a bit. "Mom...you're too kind."

"Well, am I wrong?" Scott shook his head. "Exactly," his mother said with a smug look on her face. The two laughed again and kept talking about how life had changed for Margaret in the last sixteen years, and she had a lot to tell him. The conversation was so real...Scott's voice was so clear...it was as if he had never left. During this time, Margaret felt as if he had actually come home to her. She was with her son for the first time in well over a decade, and it couldn't have felt any more real.

After a few minutes, Scott looked around at the living room again, and a series of photos on the wall caught his attention. A young woman was in black dress, and she looked awfully familiar to him.

"Hang on a second, Mom," Scott interjected. He got up and walked over to the collage of photos. He stared intently at the black haired vixen. After a minute, he noticed her eyes. They were the same shade of blue as his as well as his mother's eyes. "Is that...is that my sister?"

Margaret wrapped an arm around her son and stood by his side. "Yep, that's Janelle...your little sister." She grinned from ear to ear. "She looks a little different, doesn't she?"

"A little?" he asked in a surprised tone. "She's really grown up! Well, she's still wicked short, but you know what I mean." The two laughed. "I noticed she isn't wearing her glasses...Is she wearing contacts?"

"Nope," his mother answered. "Her eyes got better over the years, so now she doesn't need them nearly as much as she used to. She also dyed her hair black, in case you couldn't tell that she didn't have my beautiful blonde shade to her hair anymore." She giggled at the thought.

Scott took a step back and looked at the photo again. "It suits her. She looks so much more mature." After the initial surprise of seeing his sister's updated look, he examined some of the surrounding photos. Another collage of photos were nearby, and they prominently featured Janelle in a pure white gown. In an instant, it dawned on him. "Oh my God! She got married!? When did this happen?"

"It was last summer," Margaret explained. "The wedding was held in Vermont...just outside of your hometown, actually." Scott looked at his mother, who was seemingly glowing with pride. "The weather was perfect...blue skies, not too hot, and a nice light breeze." Margaret closed her eyes. "She was beautiful, Scott. Absolutely beautiful. You would have been so happy for her."

"I know...I am right now," he said with a warm smile. He looked at another one of the photos. This time, it was a group shot of the wedding party. He could easily pick out the groom...the one white tuxedo among the black tuxes of his groomsmen. "So that fox must be her husband..." he mused. Scott looked over to his mother. "What's he like?"

"His name is James," she began, "and let me first say that you don't need to worry. I made sure that he was a keeper very early in their relationship." She chuckled and winked, causing Scott to groan.

"What did you do to him, mom?"

"Nothing that wouldn't scar him for life...I just made sure he could handle my family's brand of humor, and he passed with only 7 shades of red." She laughed as she remembered the sight of the fox when they first met.

All Scott could do was shake his head and rub his eyes. "So, after you traumatized the kid, was he all right?"

"He was and still is fine young man," Margaret said. "Anyway, they met while they both attended college, and all kidding aside, I could tell that he loved your sister very much...right from the start. James even asked Don and Dale for their permission to marry Janelle before doing anything." Scott's eyebrows rose at the concept. "He's a rather traditional man, but that's fine by me."

"Well, if he could get by you, then he must be good." He laughed. "So where are they?"

"They've been making it on their own in New Jersey for the last couple of years. She's a librarian now, and James forecasts the weather." Suddenly, an idea arose in her mind. "I'm going to call Janelle right now! She'll be thrilled to hear your voice again!" She grabbed Scott's hand, but he would do no more than just stand up. Despite several pulls by Margaret, she couldn't get her son to move an inch. "Come on...I'm sure she's at work, but I don't care at this point. Scott...?"

When she turned around to look at him, Scott had bowed his head down and closed his eyes. A solemn look came across his face. "Scott...what's wrong? Why don't you want to do this?"

"Mom, you know that I can't do that," he said softly.

"Of course you can!" she said. "Besides, your sister has missed you terribly. Every time April and August come up on the calendar, she becomes noticeably withdrawn." Sadness could be seen in her eyes. "James does his best to help, but a husband can only do so much." Margaret held his right hand with both of hers. "Please, Scott. Janelle misses her brother...she hasn't been able to talk to you in sixteen years."

"I know..." he said, "...but I can't. It's impossible."

Margaret glared at her son. "How is it impossible when you're standing right in front of me!?" In that instant, a harsh realization came to her, and a cold sweat overcame the vixen's body. Her hands let go of Scott, and she slumped back into her chair. She took several slow and deep breaths as a new welling of tears began to form in her eyes. "You're right..." she said in a near whisper. "It's impossible. It's impossible for any of this to be real."

The bear went over to his mother and knelled beside the chair. "Mom..." He tried to think of something...anything....that he could say at this moment, but nothing seemed like it would work. The best that he could do was lean over and hug her gently. Not a single word was spoken for what seemed like an eternity. The stillness of the room was broken only by the occasional movement of Scott to re-adjust his kneeling stance. Finally, Margaret broke the stalemate.

"I know you're not actually here, and I know that's never going to change," she said. "I've visited your grave enough times to have that fact burned into my conscience." She moved herself around just enough in his embrace to face him eye to eye. "But seeing you here...hearing your voice...I almost fooled myself to believe that it was true."

"I know, Mom...I know you've missed me, and I've missed you too," Scott replied.

"Do you understand how difficult it is sometimes?" Margaret asked sternly. "I wasn't kidding when I said that Janelle becomes noticeably more depressed around your birthday and the time that you left us...but she isn't the only one. I don't mean to undermine her, but it's even worse for me." She stood up and walked over to a cabinet in the dining room. A lower door opened, and Margaret pulled out a black fire box that was about the size of a shoe box. "I want to show you something, Scott." She carefully placed it on a center table and placed a key next to the box. "It's something that I've kept very close to me since you left us. Go ahead...open it."

Scott looked at the box and key for a moment before picking up the small key. He carefully placed it in the lock and turned it to the right. As he opened the lid, he could begin to see several objects of varying sizes and compositions. Among the items in the box were a video tape and several envelopes that appeared to be filled with paper and photographs. He grabbed one of the envelopes and pulled a photo out of it. Scott's eyebrows rose at the sight. Immediately, he recognized the group that was shown. "That's our family," he said. "You, me, Dad, and Janelle...and that's Aunt Arlene and Uncle Marcus, right?"

"Well done," Margaret said. "You still remember them. You know, your Aunt Arlene doesn't live too far away from here, right?" Scott looked at his mother. "She and Marcus split up a year or two ago, but she's still in the area." The vixen got up and stood just behind her son. She began looking at the photograph as well. "Do you remember that day?" she asked softly.

Scott looked up. "What do you mean?"

"The scene in that photo," she continued. "Do you remember anything about the day that was taken?"

"Well, yeah. I know Arlene and Marcus came up to visit us for a while, but I don't exactly remember if there was a real reason other than to catch up." Scott turned his focus back to the photograph in his hand. "We're standing near where our first house was...right by the river, right?"

Margaret nodded. "Mmhmm...you remember well. There's one other thing, though...I don't blame you if you're not aware of it." A puzzled look overcame her son's face. "That photo is your hands...it's the very last one of us as a family before you left." She stopped and took a deep breath. "August 1st, 1998. That's when this picture was taken. Two days later..."

"I know," Scott continued. "Two days later, I left for that party." He held the photograph gently in his hands while his mind wandered briefly. Without making a sound, he slowly put the photo back into its envelop and grabbed a small folder filled with newspaper articles. As he opened it, his eyes were met with a picture of a crash site with a headline detailing the collision. "This is it..." he said. "This is what it looked like from the other side, huh?"

Margaret nodded once again. "That's the end result." She wiped a tear from her eye. "You know, even after all this time, I still can't help but get emotional looking at that." A second tear formed, but she let it fall this time. "I never actually was at the crash site. Luckily, I wasn't on call with the paramedics. I don't know what I would have done if I had to go." She stared at the folder full of articles and then lifted her gaze towards her son. "Tell me...do you remember anything?" Scott turned his head towards her. "Rather, what's the last thing you remember of that night?"

Scott was immediately floored by her question. He was far from prepared for such a direct and hard hitting question. He rubbed his eyes and let a long sigh escape him. "Wow..." he finally said. "That was unexpected."

"I'm sorry, Scott. I shouldn't have asked something like that," she quickly said.

"No, it's all right," Scott answered. "I just wasn't really prepared for something like that. Give me a moment." His head lowered, and his eyes closed as he thought back to that night. "My memory isn't all that good, especially around that time, so bear with me." He hesitated while his mind began to recall the moments leading up to his death. Scott then took a deep breath. "The last thing I remember before the crash was a feeling of absolute dread coming over me. I could tell how the truck was moving that things were not going to end well, but I didn't think it would obviously end the way that it did." He stopped at looked at his mother, who was hanging on his every word. Her face displayed a mixture of sadness and intrigue.

"When the truck began to pitch, I just went on instinct. Tanya was sitting next to me, and I pushed her down in order to shield her." He made the same motion that he did during that time. "The next thing I knew, we were flipping end over end. I lost count at the number of times. Everyone was being tossed around like rag-dolls. The adrenaline was pumping so much that I didn't feel any of the pain at first. Hell, I couldn't tell anything. All I was focused on was making sure that Tanya was all right."

Margaret piped in. "She survived." Scott flinched slightly at her statement. "Tanya was able to make it through that accident. You saved her life, Scott."

A small smile formed on the bear's face. "I'm so glad to hear that," Scott said. "I truly am. At least some good was able to come out of what happened."

"At the risk of sounding callous, what about you, Scott?" Margaret interjected. "I want to know YOUR perspective. I never got to know...no one did. According to the reports, you were DOA. I've only theorized what you may have gone through in poems that I wrote to purge the demons I had in my mind. Now, I want to know the truth, Scott. Tell me...I can handle it."

There was a deafening silence that filled the house. Tension grew at an incredible rate as the verbal stalemate continued. Scott simply looked at his mother. He could see a stern determination in her eyes following her request. There was more, though, that he was beginning to sense. His mother's words had a hint of desperation in them...something that could only come from such a long wait for the real answer that she was looking for. Scott's stance softened, and he internally conceded to his mother's request.

"Everything was moving so quickly...I had no idea which was was up or down. When the truck hit the ditch and began to flip, I felt myself being thrown through the windshield. We must have been going incredibly fast; I broke through the glass like a bullet through a piece of paper. I can't tell you how far I traveled in the air...my eyes were shut tight. I felt a sharp impact on my right shoulder as I hit the ground. My body rolled a few times before skidding to a brief stop. Then..." Scott stopped. He took several deep breaths. "Well, you know what happened at that point. I'm sure the police told you."

"I know full well what the police said," Margaret said sternly. "You were hit so hard, Dale wasn't allowed to do a full body identification of you. He said the coroner told him that the injuries you sustained were too graphic. Your face was unrecognizable, Scott. Dale had to identify you by the tattoo on your leg." Her eyebrows came closer together as her face displayed a rather stern expression. "However, I'm not asking about that...so I'll say it again. I want YOUR side of things," she demanded again.

The bear clenched his jaw at his mother's words. His muscles relaxed after a few seconds, as he reminded himself that this is important to her. "There were only a few short seconds that I had before I realized what was about to happen. It was becoming incredibly bright in the area where I was. I heard the roar of an engine coming towards me. For a brief moment, I thought I was still in the truck. When I opened my eyes, however, I saw the vehicle coming straight for me, and I realized that I was thrown in front of the same truck that I was just in. Everything was moving so fast. Despite going into the ditch, the truck didn't stop, so there was no time to react." Scott lifted his head and looked at the ceiling. "It was as if time had stopped. Everything around me came to a grinding halt. Every sound and sense that could be imagined was non-existent. I know it sounds cliché, but my life immediately flashed before my eyes. I could see everything in clear view as each scene came and went. Once my mind got to the point where I went out the door to that party, everything immediately began moving in real time." He shut his eyes for a moment. "There was a loud slam, and that was it."

Scott lowered his head to his mother's eye level once more, but his eyes remained shut. "I'm sorry, Mom," he said gently. "I'm sorry."

"Please, Scott," Margaret implored. "You don't need to apologize to me anymore. I was never angry at you...not in the least bit. I just wanted to know for myself." She took a deep breath. "I know I was being selfish with my demands, and if anything, I should be the one saying that."

Scott shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean. 'I'm sorry'...those were the last words I remember saying just before the impact." Margaret stopped breathing briefly as she realized what her son meant. He looked down at the floor once more. "It was the only thing I could say. I kept on thinking of you, Dad, and Janelle, and I couldn't do anything else but feel like I failed you all...especially you, Mom. You always told me to make smart decisions and to think carefully before doing anything. That night, I did neither of those things. During those last moments, I immediately began to regret ever stepping foot into that vehicle."

After a long sigh, Scott rubbed his forehead several times and held his eyes shut. Try as he might, he could feel the water welling up in his eyes bit by bit. "I could only imagine how angry you would be," he continued. "How disappointed...ashamed...everything. I wouldn't blame you if you were. Let's face it...I fucked up, Mom, and it cost me everything." Despite his best efforts to keep it all bottled up, Scott briefly began to break down. A pair of tears fell from his eyes. "That's why I could only say those two words. I knew you'd never be able to hear them, but it was all that I could do. I really am sorry, Mom."

Scott took several deep breaths. Even for someone of his stature, recalling such a time was taking more of a toll on his mind and hear than he realized. Without a word, Margaret began to softly rub his right shoulder...the same one that took the impact of the pavement. She could feel Scott's back and shoulders rise and fall slowly as he did his best to internalize what went on in his mind. "I was never mad at you, Scott," she said calmly. Immediately, her son's head lifted back up. "Not then...not now...not ever. Was I angry at the ones who caused all of this? You better believe it. But I could never...EVER...be mad at you, especially when none of this was your fault. So, I will not accept your apology. I only say that, because you never had a reason to be sorry in the first place. You did nothing wrong. You saved a life. How can someone apologize for that?"

Margaret's son was floored by what his mother had just said. All he could do for several moments was look into his mom's caring eyes and realize that everything she had just said was nothing but true. "You're right..." Scott finally said. "I just couldn't help but say that, though. This was the one time I didn't use my better judgement, and it cost me my life. I put you and everyone else in our family through an unimaginable Hell."

"Please, Scott...no more," Margaret pleaded. "There's no need for any more apologies. What happened has happened. We've been able to get through it. Blaming yourself like this won't do you or us any good. Do you understand where I'm coming from?" All Scott could do was nod with a small smile. "Good. Just remember, I'm still your mother. You have to listen to what I say." She laughed at her statement, doing her best to break the melancholic mood. Thankfully, her son also let loose a few chuckles. "That's the son I know and love," she said. "Now, if you don't mind me asking this, what's the first thing that you remember anything AFTER the accident?

"Afterwards?" Scott asked. His mother nodded. "Hm...all right. Let me see." Scott took a few moment to try and go as far back as possible into his mid. "The next thing I can clearly remember," he said as he continued, "I was moving very quickly."

"Were you in an ambulance?" Margaret immediately asked.

"No, far from it," her son answered. "If anything, I was outside. It was sunny. I could see things moving all around me at a high rate of speed as I went through the area. At times, it felt like I was hovering in place."

"A hummingbird," Margaret thought out loud. The bear stopped for a second. "A hummingbird," she repeated a little louder. "You were a hummingbird. I knew it!"

Scott had a surprised look on his face. "You figured it out a lot faster than I did. How were you able to put the pieces together so quickly?"

Before Margaret said a word, she pulled a small card from the bottom of the box and handed it to her son. The business card sized piece of paper had an ornate drawing of a hummingbird in mid-flight as it fed off a flower. As Scott looked at the card, Margaret cleared her throat and began her explanation. "A few weeks after the accident, I went to a psychic. I kept on having this feeling that you were still around, because I kept on seeing hummingbirds whenever I was outside. Not that they're rare or anything, but I had never really noticed how often they would dart by. I even got a bird feeder so they would come into the backyard some more." She paused briefly.

"I digress. I went to see a psychic so I could confirm whether my thoughts were correct or not. After a few minutes of questions and answers, she said that the hummingbirds that I was seeing were, in fact, a manifestation of you." Margaret stood up and walked into the kitchen. "That's why I have so many little things in this house that are hummingbird related." She smiled. "It's a reminder to me that you're always here. Besides, I was hoping that maybe...just maybe...one of them might be you."

For the first time in a while that night, Scott smiled as well. He put the card back into the box and locked the lid before standing up. "You know," he said, "it's kind of ironic. A big guy like me can only bring himself into this world in the form of such a small and fragile bird. You would think I could do a little better than that."

"I think it suits you better than you think, Scott," Margaret said. "You went away so quickly, and it proved that even the seemingly strongest of us can break. It's almost a perfect fit." She stopped for a moment. "Speaking of which, why can't you come to me, or anyone else for that matter, more often as you are now?"

"It's complicated," Scott replied. "Basically, it takes a lot more energy to do what I'm doing now rather than be in the form of such a small creature...especially when normal people are awake. When you're sleeping and dreaming, your mind is more susceptible to things like this. So while it still takes a decent bit of effort and energy to appear like this, the amount that I need in order to maintain this form isn't as great."

Margaret's head nodded up and down. "I actually understand that," she said. "When you put it that way, it makes a lot of sense."

"I'm glad you understand," Scott said, "and I hope you understand that, in light of what I just said, my time now is drawing short. I don't think I've ever held this form for this long of a time period." He stood up slowly. "I hope you got what you were looking for out of this little visit."

In an instant, Margaret got up and proceeded to hug her son once more. "You have NO idea how much I needed this," she said into his chest. "Being able to see you...to hear you...to tell you everything that has gone on since you left...this means more to mean than anything in the world!" Her grip became tighter, and her fingers dug into his jacket one again...just as they did when he first walked through the door. "I know you'll never come back in reality, but knowing that you truly are always nearby will do so much for everyone that misses you and loves you."

Scott simply smiled and hugged his mother gently. "I know...this has meant a lot to me too, Mom. I've missed you, Dad, Janelle, and everyone else so much too. Thank you. Thank you for letting me know that everyone is doing well." His hand rubbed her back softly as they continued to hug.

Neither of them wanted this moment to come to an end, but Scott knew that his time was just about up. Reluctantly, he let go of his mother and took a step back from her. "I just want you to know," he said, "that it may be a little while before I can do this again. I'll likely be limited in how I come around for a little while. Is that all right, Mom?"

"You do what you need to do, Scott," she replied. "I'm not going to be that selfish. I know you're always with us...I never doubted that for a second."

"Good," he said with a smile. "Well...I guess that's it for now, isn't it?" He took another step backwards. "It was nice seeing you again, Mom. You haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you, my little Bug," Margaret said with a giggle. Scott laughed under his breath as well before turning around and beginning the short walk back towards the front door. Before he was able to make it to the doorway, his mother's voice called out to him one more time.

"Scott Foxton." The bear stopped as he listened to her. "I want you to make a promise to me."

Scott looked back towards his mother. "Name it."

A smile began to creep across her face. "Don't wait another sixteen years before doing this again," One final tear formed in her eye. "and be sure to say hello to your sister. I'm sure she'd love to see you again."

Scott wore a big smile as he acknowledged his mother's request. "Consider it done. I won't let you down."

Margaret wiped the lone tear from her cheek. "You never did, you know."

"Thank you, Mom," he said, and Scott passed through the doorway and back into the night.

---

"I've seen your face a thousand time

Every day we've been apart

And I don't care about the sunshine...Yeah...

'Cause Mama...Mama, I'm comin' home

I'm comin' home"