When You Return Home

A Mother’s Letter

My dearest son,

Each day I wait for the moment you will return home, and the silence of your absence weighs heavily on me. The courtyard feels emptier without your footsteps, and the evenings stretch longer without your laughter.

I know you stand guard at the border, carrying the duty of protecting our country. I am proud beyond words, yet my heart trembles with every thought of the dangers you face. When I light the lamp at dusk, I whisper a prayer for your safety, asking the winds to carry my love to wherever you are.

Do you remember the neem tree outside our house? Its roots run deep, just as my hope does—that soon you will sit beneath its shade again, sharing stories of courage and sacrifice. Until then, I hold on to the promise of your return, imagining the day when I will see you walk through the door, your uniform dusted with the journey, your smile unchanged.

Come home when you can, my child. The walls of this house miss you, the air longs for your presence, and I—your mother—wait with arms open, ready to hold you as if you were still the little boy who once clung to my sari.

With love that never falters,
Your Mother