Daniel haven't returned to his hometown in almost ten years.
The last time he left, it was with a small suitcase and a heart full of ambition. He had promised himself he'd only come back once he had "made it"-once he had enough money, success, and pride to silence the whispers of neighbors who said he'd never amount to anything.
But life hadn't gone smoothly as he had planned. Sure, he found a job in the city. Sure, he paid his bills, wore nicer clothes, and posted pictures that made life look more exciting than it was. But somewhere along the way, the dream cracked. Layoffs, rent hikes, fake friendship, and the kind of loneliness that even crowded street could not cure, it all pilled up until Daniel was not sure of who he was anymore.
He got tired of everything and decide to go back to his hometown.
One evening, he packed his bag and leave for the village.
So, on a quiet Friday evening, he packed his bag and boarded the night bus home. No announcement. No grand entry. Just the silent decision that maybe it was time to stop running.
When the bus pulled into the station, the morning sun was just breaking. David stepped out and breathed in the familiar air, heavy with the smell of roasted coin and bean cake (akara). The street hadn't changed much-same potholes, same corner shops, same old man dozing under the mango tree.
But the people...they had changed
Children who were toddlers when he left now raced bicycle down the road. His childhood friends, once skinny teenagers, were now parents carrying toddlers of their own. Even the neighbors who used to gossip about him now waved warmly as though they had missed him all these years .
Daniel walked through the town slowly, each step pulling memories out of the ground like buried treasures. The field where he used to play football was now half-covered with new houses. The small river where he caught fish as a boy was narrower, almost drying up. Time had been busy while he was away.
Finally, he reached his old house. The paint was faded, the roof slightly rusted, but the scent of home -fried plaintain and wood smoke -was still same.
His mother was on the veranda, sweeping. She froze when she saw him, broom suspended mod-air. For a moment, David thought she might scold him, remind him of how long it had been, demand answers for the silent.
But this mother dropped the broom and ran to him " you came back" she said with tears wetting his shirt as she embrace him tightly as though he could not breath again.
He swallowed hard and answered " yes, I came back".
Days that followed felt strange and familiar all at once as neighbors stopped by with food, cousins engaging him in a deep conversation, children whispering behind him as though he was some kind of legend, everyone wants to know about the city, the job, the house, they just want to know everything about his life "out there".
At first, he played along- smiling, sharing half-truth, making everything smooth that it really were but as time goes, he became tired of pretending, one evening sitting together with his childhood friend, David, he confess
"Life isn't what I thought it would out there, I went there thinking I will make this big life but sometimes it felt like surviver, I don't think I achieved anything worth to brag about ".
"And you think we are achieving more here?, look around, Daniel everyone is trying to survive, both in the city and in the village but at least here, you don't have to survive alone" David said to him.
Those words sank deep. Maybe"making it" wasn't about skyscrapers, paychecks, or Instagram posts. Maybe it was about belonging.
As days goes on, Daniel began to settle in again. He helped his mother repaint the house, reconnected with cousins over late-night fires, and even started coaching the neighborhood kids in football. There was no paycheck, no glamour, but for the first time in years, he felt useful.
He realized that the return wasn't just about coming back physically. It was about reconnecting with parts of himself he had abandoned- the laughter, the community, the feeling that he mattered.
One evening, as he sat by the river watching the children splash in the shallow water, his mother joined him.
"You know," she said quietly, "people always leave thinking the world out there will complete them. But sometimes, you need to return to remember who you are."
David looked at the kids laughing, at the golden light dancing on the water, and at the familiar face of the woman who had never stopped waiting for him.
For the first time in his life, he felt whole
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