Sweetwater Valley || Shawmila

5.

The golden rays on the horizon lit up the road ahead of him, and his eyes were barely shielded by the weak shade of the sun visor. Beneath his pickup, the hot and bumpy asphalt would carry him for a few more hours before Shawn could finally reach home. It had been two months since he'd last seen his parents, and though he loved his independence, he couldn't deny that he'd missed them.

The engine of the old pickup roared, rumbling against the silence of the endless fields surrounding him. The outlines of the mountains rose dark against the increasingly fiery sky, and Shawn couldn't help but breathe in the scent of dust and wind—the familiar smell of home he'd missed more than he'd realized.

The road stretched ahead, a solitary, glistening ribbon that seemed to dissolve into nowhere. As he drove, the radio crackled with an old country song, but Shawn barely paid attention; his thoughts drifted into images of what he'd momentarily left behind.

Finally, in the distance, he saw the familiar shapes of fences and hills that marked the edge of his family's land—their old property. He could have recognized it with his eyes closed, it was etched so deeply into his memory. As a kid, those wide-open spaces had felt endless, as if the world stopped there, beyond the fields and dirt trails.

He sped up a little to clear the last stretch of asphalt, and the truck jolted over the bumpy gravel driveway leading to the old porch. The house appeared before him like a vision, with its weathered white paint and windows reflecting the last light of sunset.

When he turned off the engine, a silence settled around him, broken only by a few birds hidden in the trees. As he stepped out of the truck, he noticed the air was thick with the scent of hay and dry grass, and it made him smile: it was the same old house—or what was left of it—with all its beauty and imperfections.

A small movement caught his attention, and he saw his mother on the porch, a shawl around her shoulders to keep off the evening chill. Shawn paused for a moment, taking in the scene before walking toward her. She smiled, lifting a hand in greeting.

"Welcome back, honey," she said softly, in that gentle voice he'd known his whole life. He stepped closer and leaned down to give her a warm kiss on the cheek, a gesture he'd shared with her for as long as he could remember.

"You're looking more handsome every time I see you. Looks like they're treating you well out there in Sweetwater Valley."

He held back a small smile. "You have no idea."

He grabbed his duffel bag from the truck and entered the house. From the back, he could hear the rhythmic sound of the axe hitting the chopping block. He didn't need to know that his father was still working hard, preparing firewood for the cold months ahead. Shawn rolled up his sleeves and went outside, but before he could grab a single log, his father was already coming toward him.

"Well, look who's back! Come here, my boy," he greeted him, pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, Dad! Aren't you a bit too old to be out here chopping wood at dusk?" he asked with a laugh.

His father gave him a pat on the back. "Good observation. Tomorrow, I'll let you take over! Now let's go back inside; I'm sure your mother has the table already laid out."

As usual, she had made sure to have all his favorite dishes ready for him: beef stew with mashed potatoes, cornbread, and to finish, a cherry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a hearty meal full of treats. The Cabellos had many talents, but cooking wasn't necessarily one of them.

The three of them had dinner together cheerfully, and Shawn was happy to see his parents still in good health. Just entering their fifties, they couldn't be called old, but the struggles they'd faced over the past years seemed to have aged them a little faster. There were times when being away from them was a cause of worry, and only in those moments did he realize what they must be feeling too. He knew he hadn't been an easy son to handle; his life choices had been questioned by his parents more than once.