Taking
the Plunge
Dry leaves crackle underfoot as
he makes his way up the drive; like walking on eggshells he
thinks. the sun is behind him, casting long shadows through the russet
dappled carpet obscuring the path. There is a glint in the sky; a rapidly decaying vapour
trail points towards London
Airport
Angry gusts throw leaves in
his face as if berating him for his tardiness. He pulls up the collar of
his heavy overcoat to stave off the chill. His ears feel the pinch of winter as he reaches for the doorbell, a wreath of holly hangs from the
knocker: welcoming.
A jet passes overhead, he
gazes up as it traverses the sky, horizon to horizon in ten seconds.
about the time it took him to walk from the garden gate to the door,
all of fifteen yards? In that time the light would travel nineteen million
miles. How far would it travel in seven years, he thinks?
That was how long he'd been away.
Memory is a funny thing.
He could recall the scene in minute detail as if it had only just
happened. His self-righteous indignation, his angry hurtful words, as he
threw clothes into his suitcase and slammed the door dramatically as he left.
Many times he'd wanted to call
and say he was sorry and that he wanted to come home, but he couldn't take
that final step.
The girl at the Salvation Army
had given him a bowl of warming soup and asked how he'd come to such a low
state. She'd coaxed him into their hostel, and they'd provided him with
shoes, clean clothes, and a warm coat, (His case and clothes had been stolen on
that first night on the streets). She'd stood by him as he made the phone
call home. He'd listened to the tearful crying at the other end of the
line, no anger or recrimination, just an invitation.
"We love you, Kyle, please
come home."
.-...-.
So, here he is, taking the
plunge. He presses the doorbell, feels the welcoming rush of warm air
and as the door opens he samples the mouth-watering aromas of Christmas.
He returns the welcoming smile and mirrors the outstretched arms.
He returns the welcoming smile and mirrors the outstretched arms.
"Welcome home my darling."
Their tears are tears of joy...
