A Long-Awaited Journey
The older man gripped the steering wheel of his car, staring through the windshield at the diner across the street.
In his lap rested a stack of faded black-and-white photographs tucked neatly inside a white envelope.
He spoken softly to himself, his fingers tightening against the dark steering wheel as he kept his eyes on the silver diner facade.
A younger man in a brown jacket walked up from the sidewalk and stopped next to the driver’s window.
The driver reached down, gathering the old photographs into his palm before lowering the glass window.
Stepping Out of the Past
The driver extended his arm out the car window, pointing a thumb downward toward an old picture in his hand.
The younger man bent his knees, leaning down to take a close look at the image showing two young men standing in front of the exact same diner.
The driver pushed open his heavy car door and stood up onto the asphalt, holding the paper envelope against his blue button-up shirt.
He sorted through the letters in his hands, pointing out the postmark from the week before.
He explained that the letter was the first message he had received from his brother in nearly three decades.
The younger man listened quietly, offering a small nod as the driver adjusted his collar.
Counting the Lost Years
They walked over together to a wooden bench sitting directly outside the diner’s large front windows.
The two men sat down side by side, spreading the old square photographs across the wooden slats between them.
The driver looked down at the pictures of two young brothers standing shoulder to shoulder in their youth.
He explained how a single argument following their father’s passing had severed all contact between them for twenty-eight years.
As they talked on the bench, an older man with a full grey beard and a tan jacket stepped out through the diner’s front doors.
The driver immediately stood up from the bench, turning to face the man who had just walked outside.
A Seat at the Table
The two older men stood close together on the sidewalk near the entrance of the diner.
The driver held out his envelope, admitting how much time had slipped away since they last spoke.
The man in the tan jacket reached out, placing his right hand firmly against his brother’s upper arm.
They turned together and walked back through the glass front doors into the retro dining room.
They slid into a maroon vinyl booth near the window, setting two white ceramic coffee mugs on the table between them.
The brother in the tan jacket pointed to his mug, confirming that he still drank his coffee black with no sugar.
The driver smiled faintly, leaning across the table and reaching out his hand.
Inside the booth, two older hands rested together on the laminate tabletop next to two steaming white mugs.
Know someone who has been distant from family? Share this story with them today.
