Return To You - Leia Stone Page 0,1

only five A.M. So, you can expect that number to increase."

The pilot continues to thank us for choosing the airline, but it's drowned out by the collective moan of passengers after hearing the early morning temperature.

The heat doesn't bother me. Where I'm headed, two hours north of the valley, it'll be twenty degrees cooler. But, considering what's waiting for me there, it's not an even tradeoff.

I gather my purse and slip from the plush seat when it's my turn, leaving behind the complimentary blanket and headphones.

Not gonna lie, first class was amazing, but my wallet can’t afford to make a habit out of it. Now that I’m jobless, I’ll need to go on a budget until I can find something else.

As I slip past sluggish travelers wheeling heavy carry-ons, I notice their zombie-like appearance. I've always been a morning person, trained to function on little sleep, so the early hour isn't a problem for me. A few hours of sleep on the plane is enough to carry me through until I can grab a nap later. The energy zinging through me now has nothing to do with sleep. Despite the reason I've come back, I'm excited to see my mom.

The thought has me moving faster, propelling me around a family wearing brightly-colored Hawaiian shirts. I sneak a peek at them as I pass, and they all look tired, mildly sunburned, and a little depressed.

I see my mom as soon as I round the corner. She stands only a few feet beyond security. Any closer and the TSA employee would probably ask her to take a few steps back.

A grin stretches my face. She looks good. Skinnier than I imagined, but healthy. Bits of silvery gray weave through her shoulder-length brown hair, showing me what I will one day look like. I don't even allow the other half of my DNA into the equation. I think of my dad as a donor, and that's it. He walked out on my mom before my first birthday, so he doesn’t deserve more than a fleeting thought.

The closer I get to her, the more I take in. I see it now … the way her t-shirt hangs limply on her body, and then I realize she's in a long-sleeve and it's hot out. There are deep dark bruises on her legs and my mouth goes dry. I don't mean for my smile to falter, but it does, and like a reflection in a mirror, her grin falls a fraction too.

The cancer has returned. It has hit her not once, not twice, but three fucking times.

Who the hell gets cancer three times? It’s not fair, but I can’t go down that road right now or I’ll end up cursing God in the middle of this airport.

The odds aren't good for her … but I am here now and I’ll be damned if cancer is going to take my mother from me.

Maybe my presence will be the difference. During her first two diagnoses, she'd told me to stay in New York and keep working. I'd argued, but my mom is stubborn and firm. I'd have better luck arguing with a brick wall. So, I listened. I also knew she needed my help financially, even though she didn't say it. The best way for me to help was to stay at my job and keep climbing, making sure those paychecks came in and got bigger along the way. I sent her a chunk of money each month and she accepted it gratefully.

But this time, when she called to tell me about the current diagnosis, she asked me to come home. She didn't tell me to stay put like she had before. She just told me she’d pick me up at the airport.

That's how I knew it was bad.

I won't let her see my fear now. I won't make her console me, not when her energy is needed so badly on the inside. I'm here now, and I will add all my strength to this fight.

Walking the last few feet past the TSA employee standing like a sentry, I pass the sign that reads No re-entry beyond this point and straight into my mother's open arms.

She is smaller, and it feels like a role reversal. I am, for the very first time, bigger than her.

But she still smells like my mom. Her lemon and lavender scent sinks into me, silently providing me comfort. My throat clenches with emotion but I clear it and keep my shit together.

She pulls