I’d like to start this year by sharing a story with you. I wrote it in 2001. I hope you’ll enjoy it.
The title is:
….
“So tomorrow’s D-day,” she said to herself. She was utterly enthralled and elated by the thoughts that were doing their rounds in her head. She sat down on her bed but found that that was not good enough.
She needed to stand and flex her muscles, if anything, for the next day. Yes, she would need all the energy she could muster. The energy to whoop with joy. The energy to have a chin-wag after another; a rigmarole after another. Yes, the perfect homecoming. She shot from her bed and the words, “Home, here I come!” escaped her mouth.
Slowly she moved to window, a grin playing on her lean lips. After rolling up the blind, she peered outside. Instead of seeing the view outside, she saw the pictures of her father, mother and brothers dancing before her on the window.
These people were very happy. What was that again? Their lips were moving, they were communicating. But there was no sound. She blinked her clouded eyes. When she reopened them, the images were still there – vivid and life-like!
She wanted to say she loved them; that she cared. But she simply couldn’t. How could she even claim that she loved them yet she had spent three solid years away from home?
They had been communicating in the first year of her absence from home. But the communication had died off as quickly as it had started.
Tears clouded her eyes and slowly meandered down her chubby face to her chin where they stalled for a bit, made a fat drop and tore through the air to the floor.
In no time her face was awash with tears. She let tears roll freely. As she stood reminiscing the good times with her family so was her resolve to go home strengthened and solidified.
“I must go home…tomorrow!” she said with a firmness that startled her.
To be continued…
No comments:
Post a Comment