Home

On my way home from a ten year absence I had many questions going through my head while on my eight hour flight. I pondered wether this place I grew up in was still home, I wondered what it would be like to come back. I wondered how different my sisters and brothers would all be. I wondered if it would be awkward to get to know them all again. I wondered if my Mother would have me still, I worried that they might not. I didn't know how long I would stay, and I was confused as to why I was coming back in the first place. I hadn't left on good terms, not in the slightest, and now I had finally come to the realization that the wrong doing was all mine. I was to blame for my absence. I had let my offense get in the way of all relationship with my family, I cut them off.
Until now, I sighed, when no amount of pleading from my younger siblings had compelled me to return, death had. It was true, I was suspicious at first and called a few family friends to confirm that it was not some plot to get me to come home. Too many people told me that it was all true. My Father had died two days ago.
My heart gave a twinge of pain and regret when I thought of all the things I'd said to him. I blamed him for everything, while the only thing he could truthfully be blamed for was a love unconditional for his children. I hated myself for the way I had treated him. Dear Father, I never told you that I love you, I never told you that I appreciated you. I returned all your letters unopened and I blocked your phone calls. I was too selfish to see anyone besides my own self, and for that I am sorry. I was wrong. So wrong.
Still old habits die hard and I rose in defense for myself after having these thoughts. I told myself that I was going to go in strong, and cold. I'd take a cab from the airport to my hotel and I wouldn't tell anyone I'd arrived. I would show up at the funeral and say hi to them only when they said hi to me. I would keep things brief and business like. Get in, pay my respects and get out. I wasn't going to tell them where I was staying. I'd rent a car and receive no help from anyone. I'd go back to my hotel afterwards and be proud of the way I'd looked in front of them all. Still brave and independent to the very end. And then... and then I'd cry myself to sleep in a bed not my own, longing for family, longing for friends, wishing I hadn't thrown it all away, wishing I could only get it back. Get him back.
I glanced at the Soldier sitting next to me. He sat straight and wore a serious expression. I wondered where he'd come from, and how long he'd been gone. I wondered what sort of reception awaited him.
As if reading my thoughts the man glanced at me and smiled, he introduced himself and I introduced myself and then he asked me what I did for a living. "I'm a lawyer. For a senator." I answered rather smug, I was very proud of the way I'd taken care of myself. I'd amounted to something. While those country bumpkin parents of mine had both dropped out of college, I had gone to law school and grad school and had shown myself to be better than them. I had always resented that they were nobodies, so I determined that I should be somebody. And I was somebody alright. After my divorce I'd changed my name so now no one else in world shared the same last name as me. I was my own person. All on my own.
I asked the Soldier how long he'd been gone and where he was coming from and he told me that he'd been in Iraq for the past eight and a half months, his wife was having a baby and he was coming home to be with her for the birth, then he'd have to leave again, back to the front. Tears filled his eyes as he spoke and I realized that there were still a few decent men who loved their wives in this world.
"Good luck" I wished him, and as we started our descent I drifted back into my dark revery.
Later as I waited for my taxi I saw the Soldier again, he stood at the curb awaiting his ride. As I watched, a car pulled up, it had barely come to a stop when the door of the passenger side was flung open and very pregnant girl flew out of it with a rather inhuman sort of cry. She held him and he held her as she wept and he wept as well. Watching them I could not help but think, it had only been eight and a half months of separation for the two of them. And I had not seen my family in ten years.
I began to cry as well as I watched them, their relationship was so sweet. She touched his face and asked him what had happened to him, told him how he seemed so old, so hardened, was he sick, she wondered aloud through her tears. He held her and kissed her, "If I'm sick than you have made me well, you and the little one." he bent and kissed her stomach.
I realized that I could not wish this man anymore happiness than he already had; rather I needed him to wish it to me.
I stepped into my taxi as I blinked back my tears. "Where to Miss? Do you have a hotel yet?"
"Yes, I mean no, I mean. I don't want to go to my hotel." I delved deep into my memory and found the address I'd been taught to memorize early in my childhood. "Take me there" I said, "Take me home."