As I sipped my coffee and watched the people go by in the airport area, I saw a young boy walking around by himself. He held on tight to his rucksack like it was his lifeblood because he looked lost and scared. When my feelings told me to, I went up to him and tried to help.
Tommy, the boy, was shy at first, but he finally let me talk to him. I was shocked to find a plane ticket with my last name on it while looking through his bag for hints. It made no sense to me. There was something eeriely familiar about the boy’s eyes, nose, and cheekbones. Then it hit me: Ryan, my long-lost brother, who had been gone from my life for years.
As I tried to figure out what this meant, Ryan rushed in and started looking for his kid like crazy. There was shock, shame, and anger that wasn’t spoken at the reunion.
I felt better when I saw how tired and worn out Ryan looked. I realised that life had worn him down.
After years of not talking, the conversation felt strange. There was anger in the air. But as we talked, I learnt that Ryan had been having a hard time and that his absence wasn’t as easy as I thought.
I was now a part of his new life, whether I liked it or not.
As we said our goodbyes, Ryan’s smile and the thought of getting back together shone like a beacon of hope. It’s possible that we could try to fix things between us. I had a lot of questions after the meeting, but one thing was for sure: my life would never be the same again.
