The middle of March was a beautiful time in the southern part of the country. While there were still the occasional blizzard warnings and cars sliding off roads cemented with ice in the Northern states, the South was beginning to bloom. Trees regained their verdant foliage, flowers were budding and most importantly to the denizens of Macon, the cherry blossoms were in full swing. The lavender shaded trees were bursting with color, prompting so many from across the state and beyond to visit the normally small-ish town to view an event that separated Macon from the rest of the state. The awed on-lookers, picture takers and proud citizens who volunteer all year to keep the trees alive and well formed a picturesque scene on that particular Sunday that Kaz decided to plop himself on a bench across the street from the brouhaha(fun word) and eat his biscuit and egg sandwich lovingly prepared as always by "Momma" Lori Stanhoff. Mrs.Stanhoff was a staple of his childhood and adolescence, going to her small diner many a time to secure breakfast served any time of day because "what's better than breakfast in the morning? Breakfast in the evening!". 

A muted chuckle came and went as he took another bite, a slightly louder groan of appreciation for the culinary masterpiece emitted. Although most of his adult life was spent on the East Coast, he could never quite find that special diner he could wrap his arms around quite like The Greasy Spoon. His circle of friends back in Manhattan would've scoffed at the idea of eating at a place that had "Grease" in the name, but their pretentious palates weren't here for judgment. Just honest people who make an honest day's work. 

Honesty. What an interesting concept that had become over the past few years. 

Shaking his head, he finished the sandwich before reaching into his pocket, fingers riddled with grease clumsily unlocking his phone as he grimaced at that small blinking "32" that reminded him of the responsibilities he had attempted to leave behind for the two weeks he was taking off. It had been only a few hours since touching down at the small airstrip outside the city and already his inbox was being deluged on a day most popularly thought of as a day of rest. Of course, his particular business didn't necessarily lend itself to "rest". The world of stocks, bonds, financial holdings and other assets was constantly churning and as the Chief Financial Officer of Ujohiri Holdings Corporation, he was expected to churn along with it. Thankfully, Juntao had recommended this visit and told the Board that this two week absence was for personal business. 

Indeed it was. 

The urn still remained in the apartment he rented (executive or not, AirBnB was a wonderful invention) and would stay there until he could muster the courage to face Mother's grave. How long had it been since he had visited? Twelve years? Fifteen? He had lost track. When he and his family left Macon permanently, he had cut off everyone he knew from the city, knowing that keeping up his attachment would be too taxing. He was to be an Ujohiri, a powerful player in the global financial market, to learn under Tanaka Ujohiri, one of the most respected financiers in the world. Kaz didn't have time for-

Is that her? 

He sat up, spine stiffening. The golden, wavy locks bounced jubilantly in the crisp mid-March air, reminding him of-

No. 

When she turned around, it wasn't her. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, he stood up, knowing full well that he would have to face this sooner or later. 
"Where would she be after all this time..." While his father's remains were of critical import, another matter had admittedly surfaced on the ride to Macon, one that he wanted to confront-

No, no, not confront. Resolve. Yes, resolve. The way he had left was...unacceptable and his subsequent treatment after leaving was even worse. He had to make things right before going back home. He had to. Which meant reopening some old memories left to the annals of time. 

___

An hour of searching via Google Maps in his rented vehicle brought him to the farmhouse that he remembered was down the road from "Abe's General Store". It was still ramshackle: roof caved in, doors cast off to the side, interior ripped apart by assumed scavengers and other signs of natural decay all but confirmed it's state. The swing set, too, was showing it's age, but still the same. Situated behind the farmhouse was a swing set probably utilized by the former owners, but was possessed informally by he and Ellie for all those years. No one surprisingly had chased them off during their time there, which allowed for so many...good things to happen. 

Running a hand over the chains connecting the swing to the rusting bar above, he smiled, slight dimples creasing his cheeks before-

Grass ruffled behind him, prompting Kaz to turn to face the very person he was attempting to track down. All he could say in this singular moment of revelation was:
"Ellie...hello." 

That's all you've got? Really? 

This was going to be interesting.