Remembering You

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her voice shaking in nervousness.

The little boy stared at the older woman in confusion and held a up the object he had found. “Mommy, who is that?” he asked, a twinge of excitement in his tone.

The young woman shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment, wishing this was all an illusion.

“It's no one Michael,” she replied, grinning halfheartedly at the child.

“But his eyes are green, mommy, just like mine,” he countered, a smile appearing on his baby features.

For a second, she had thought the colour had drained off her face. She wondered briefly how the old photograph landed in his hands, before turning her attention to the curious boy.

“Yes, just like yours,” she whispered longingly, walking closer to the boy. She grabbed the photo from his petite hands and stared at it. How long had it been since she had last seen him, 3, 4 years?

“Who is he?” the boy questioned again.

“Your father,” she replied, unaware of how much those two words were going to change their lives. “He's your father,” she repeated, more to herself rather than to him.