The Last Countdown

Diane sat in her vehicle, the downpour pattering on the windshield like a fretful metronome. The ticking of the dashboard clock synchronized with her pulse, each passing second a horrible update that she was using up all available time. White noise filled the vehicle, including the engine's constant hum, the distant drone of traffic, and the gentle hiss of rain hitting the windows. But Diane was concentrating on the courthouse across the street, and as she gripped the wheel, her knuckles turned white. She had not seen her son Ben in two years. He'd been just 18 when a terrible choice with some unacceptable group landed him in prison, and presently he was at long last being delivered. During the trial, Diane had been present and had to put up with lawyers who had told her that he would "bounce back." However, the truth was more extreme. She was aware that his time in prison had taken its toll and that he had lost some of his spirit with each passing day. Presently, with just 53 seconds to go, Diane's heart hustled quicker. She looked at the town hall, attempting to look through the downpour streaked windshield, her breath hazing up the glass. Numerous stories of hopelessness and despair had been told in the old building, and the clock tower there seemed to make fun of her anxiety. In an effort to get a clear view of the steps from which Ben would soon emerge, she wiped away the fog. Her surroundings continued to move at an indifferent pace. She heard a canine yapping somewhere out there, saw walkers clustering under umbrellas, and vehicles passing by without a subsequent look. However, for Diane, the universe had condensed to a single time and place. Everything was contingent on what would transpire in the following few seconds. Her throat tightened when the doors to the courthouse opened. The downpour and her own tears blurred the figures as they began to emerge. She immediately cleaned her eyes, looking for the recognizable step and hair wave that had a place with her child. Milliseconds felt like hours, and it seemed like time was expanding and contracting simultaneously. She paused her breathing, filtering each face for a brief look at Ben's elements, trusting that jail hadn't transformed him to an extreme. Then, he was right there. Unsure of his surroundings, a young man cautiously stepped outside while glancing around in the rain. The beat of Diane's heart stopped. He had a sharper edge to him than she remembered, and he was thinner than she remembered. However, it was her Ben—him. She pushed open the vehicle entryway, not thinking often about the ticking clock or the motor actually running. She barely noticed that the rain had soaked her hair and clothes. "Ben!" she called out, her voice breaking with urgency. Her words made it to him, but the wind swept them away. Their gazes met as his head jerked upward. Time stood still as he was recognized and trusted in his gaze. Maybe the whole world had contracted to the space between them, as though all the other things failed to issue. Ben moved cautiously forward, followed by another. Each step was loaded up with vulnerability, like he was trying the ground underneath him. As she watched him approach, Diane felt her heart pound. "Mom?" he said, his voice speculative and loaded up with doubt. She didn't pause. She surged toward him, her arms outstretched, prepared to close the hole between them. At the point when they at last impacted, maybe the most recent two years dissolved away. Diane clutched her child as though she could never give up, the tears and downpour blending on her cheeks. She reenacted each and every time they had been apart, including every moment of worry and fear, every night without sleep, and every prayer for his safety. Time restarted in that embrace, but now each tick of the clock was a new moment. The aloof world went on around them, however it at this point not made a difference. Despite everything, Diane and Ben had reunited, and their bond was stronger than ever. The downpour washed away the long stretches of torment and uncertainty, leaving them with a new beginning. The last commencement had finished, and their fresh start had quite recently started.