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Homecoming
Hunter’s POV
The sun blazed down from a deep blue sky, painting everything in a warm, golden light. Its rays danced and flickered on the surface of the plane. Mark kept pointing things out, his eyes straying to something else every few minutes.
The airport was bustling with people, most leaving and most coming. The plane had just unloaded the passengers and I couldn’t wait to get through the crowd and down to our bags. I was already tired of the crowd. The flight had been nice enough, but the crowd reminded me of New York, which was one reason I’d left the place.
It was a hot, lovely afternoon, a day of warmth, joy, and endless possibility as I stared out the airport window. I gathered my bags and took Mark's hand.
As I stepped off the plane and into the warm Santa Monica sunshine; I felt a sense of relief wash over me. I was happy to be home, and I knew that I had made the right decision.
I had left Santa Monica 10 years ago with my wife, Sarah, and now I was returning alone with our five-year-old son, Mark. I couldn't believe how much had changed in such a short time.
Sarah passed away three years ago, leaving me to raise our son alone. It had been a difficult few years, but I made it work, with a good job in New York and a nanny to help with Mark. But now everything was different.
I had just inherited a fortune from a long-lost family member. I was 35 years old at the time and had moved back to Santa Monica to start a new life. I wanted to be closer to my family and give Mark a chance to grow up in a more relaxed environment.
As we made our way through the airport and out to the curb, I swept my gaze over the crowd, searching for Steve. He had promised to pick us up.
“Can you see Uncle Steve?” Mark asked beside me, his voice lisping softly.
“Not yet buddy, but I’m certain he’s somewhere around here."
But knowing Steve, he was going to be late through no fault of his.
“Uncle Steve said he picked me the best room in the house.”
“I’m certain he did,” I replied, my eyes looking through the cars parked around us. I heard a big whistle and then the sound of my favorite childhood song. I grimaced. Steve was here then, and with a surprise in tow, apparently.
I turned towards the noise. Steve had a banner in his hands, and I smiled.
“WELCOME TO YOUR FOREVER HOME”
“Uncle Steve!” Mark screamed before letting my hand go and running over to Steve. Mark had never met Steve, but they’d spoken on the phone every weekend. With almost religious regularity.
I walked over to them, smiling, when Steve dropped Mark and gave me a big bear hug.
“Welcome Hunter and don’t think I didn’t notice your grimace.”
“Maybe you should learn to speak better English Steve, ‘your forever home?’”
“The kid loves you,” he replied. Mark was riffling through the bag of goodies Steve had brought with him.
“Hey buddy, you can look through that in the car, let’s go,” I said to Mark, before taking the bag from him and waiting while Steve picked him up.
“I couldn’t find parking anywhere close by, we’ll have to walk a bit,” Steve informed me.
We walked over to the car which Steve had parked almost behind the last car in the parking lot.
“You think you could’ve found somewhere even closer than this?” I asked sarcastically.
“Oh, just get in,” he said.
I opened the back door and strapped Mark into the car seat before stepping away to open the shotgun door and sliding in myself.
I looked out the window as we drove through the streets of Santa Monica. I felt a sense of nostalgia wash over me. I thought of my childhood home and all the happy memories I had there, taking in the familiar sights and sounds. It felt good to be back.
Mark looked out the window, his voice pitched high with excitement as he described everything he could see. The street was bustling with activity, with people of all ages walking and biking. It was lined with a mix of colorful storefronts, trendy cafes, and high-end boutiques, all vying for the attention of the passerby. They drove by a row of palm trees, swaying in the ocean breeze, and a variety of street vendors selling everything from fresh fruit to handmade jewelry to toys.
