'Homecoming' by Rosie Pugh

The old woman sprang up as Ruth entered the room clutching a photograph. Mary did not need a picture to know who the young woman was. Tears escaped as she held out her arms.
‘I never thought we would ever meet again. Ruth, why did you take so long to return?’
‘Circumstances,’ Ruth replied, ‘I never wanted to come, but I had no choice. I couldn’t settle in that strange country. Our culture is so different from theirs. But how did you know me?’
‘Your eyes, they are so deep I would recognize you anywhere. You wore your hair differently then. You had it in plaits when you came here with your mum.' Mary paused and thought back to the old times. 'Do you remember your great uncle’s farm? Do you remember how we all helped with harvesting the hay. The children, including you Ruth, would dance on the pile of hay to help to bed it together. In the evening we gathered round the fire and your great uncle played the fiddle. What happy times we had together.’
As Ruth gazed through the window, flashes of memory flicked by. Tears welled up and, unable to hold back, she sobbed in Mary’s arms. Like a broken dam, there was no stopping; the pent up emotion broke through.
Ruth could see the tall mountains, they seemed as if they were welcoming her home as the sun shone above them. The forest near by was where as children she had played imaginary games. Wild fields that grew and knew no bounds with grass so high they hid from one another.
Mary looked at Ruth and knew that time was running out. Her heart felt heavy. She held Ruth close as if this was their last moment. To Mary, Ruth was like one of her own. Her lost child had returned.