This story is part of the Glimpses of Ben Series.
He sat by the window, his little chin resting on his hand. The sun glinted off his dark, curly hair that framed his pale face. His little legs swung back and forth, back and forth as he sat on the chair.
The forest outside his window was giving way to spring growth. The last of the lingering snow piles melting in the dark shadows of the tree trunks. The first of the spring birds were arriving daily. The woods first growth of green for the year was sprouting. The air turning warm as it swept through the cabin clearning.
He sat patiently, if a bit on the fidgety side. His sky colored eyes roamed the path out the clearing expectantly. The shoe on one foot was carefully tied, the other had short laces tied in a knot. His warm sweater was sitting just off his shoulders, but he huddled in its warmth.
With the first glint off of metal he saw down the path, the small boy jumped to his feet. Running to the cabin door, he pulled his huge parka down and threw it over his shoulders. His little running feet took him to the edge of the cabin porch. He perked his ears listening intently.
The whistling was faint and far away, but hearing it the boy bounced down the steps his eyes alight with glee. He jumped from step to step and began running down the path.
The old man trudged the path carefully, his cane at his side, his gun slung over his shoulder. He pulled a mini-travois behind him on which lay a canvas covered box. The old man's eyes smiled brightly at the young figure advancing towards him. Quickening his pace he hurried down the path.
"Granpere, Granpere," the little boy yelled flinging himself against the old man's legs and hugging him tightly. "I love you, Grandpere."
The old man put aside the travois handle and dropped his cane. He leaned over and enfolded the boy in his arms. "I love you too, mon fil."
The old man's heart burst with joy. His grandson. A boy to be proud of, a boy to love. Who would've believed that the solemn little boy who arrived here 4 months ago after his mother's death would burst into this lovely child.
Thank you God, he thought, thank you for returning Benton to us.