“Come Back Home, My Child”— How My Father’s Plea After Years of Absence Opened Old Wounds I Thought Were Healed”
The phone rang just as the sun was setting over Nairobi. I had been scrolling through old messages, trying to forget the past, when the display lit up with a number I didn’t recognize. Hesitant, I answered.
“Kevin… it’s your father,” the voice trembled. “Come back home. Please, my child… come back.”
My heart stopped. My father had walked out on our family when I was just ten years old. For years, I had buried the pain, telling myself that distance was protection. Yet, hearing him now, his voice heavy with guilt and desperation, old wounds I thought were healed tore open.
I had made a life for myself in Kisii, working long hours at a marketing firm, avoiding any thoughts of the past. My mother had raised me alone, a fierce woman who taught me resilience, patience, and self-worth.
My father’s absence had been a shadow, shaping who I became — cautious, independent, wary of attachment. And now, a single call threatened to unravel all of it.
