Blackfoot Forest somewhere inside, I hope you still see me just the way I was before I walked away

With one word—only two syllables—he felt time slow down around him. Ever so faint, he could almost feel the Earth’s rotations, as well as hear every breath of wind that dared drift passed his being. And as his gaze widened, he did little more than stare, searching for a way to ensure that what he had heard—and what he was seeing—was, in fact, true. But he needed little convincing, knowing even before she’d uttered her name that they shared blood, her being one of four reminders of a time he so missed. She, his daughter, was alive and well, and had been brought back to him by forces unknown.

Joyous tears threatened to spill over, a reunion he could never have imagined being just what was needed to further soften the man. And it was moments thereafter that he closed the distance between them—should she allow him to do so—and sought to rest his chin atop her head. To embrace her in the only way that he knew how, whilst muttering ever so softly. “I’ve missed you,” he told her, able to speak no louder than a whisper. “You’ve grown so much... I’ve missed so much of your life, I—” Cutting himself off, he pulled away and looked at her, a sorrowful smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he said, “I’m sorry.” For not being there, for not watching her grow up, for all the pain that he surely caused—for everything.