The early autumn scents of damp, tilled earth and leaves burning in brush piles enveloped him as he stepped from the train, welcoming him home in a way that was far more overpowering than he could have ever imagined Suddenly overcome with memories of his brothers’ football games in the afternoons, long walks with his sisters along a suddenly Rainbow Valley painted crimson, canary, and a carroty orange by God’s hands, his mother’s loving smile and infectious laugh, his father’s sturdy hand supporting him, and a certain pair of almond- shaped, somewhat wistful and sorrowful dark-blue eyes that would not leave his mind, caused his eyes to ache and burn as though they might tear. Ten years had passed since he boarded that last train that took him from Glen St. Mary. Finally he was home again, though to him it was as though he had only left the previous year. But a few short seconds passed, though before the welcoming aura that swaddled him was savagely stripped away from him as he realized that life had gone on in his absence. Progress had continued, and though he had returned home, home could never again be as he left it. There were more automobiles parked here and there, when before only tourists at the hotel Over Harbour had driven the novelties. A few buildings that were in the beginnings of disrepair before had disappeared from the landscape altogether, and new businesses had sprung up in their place. Where there had only been a few places of business when he left, a metropolis had not grown up, but the little village main street had at least doubled in size. This caused him to wonder if perhaps the people's remembrance of him had been so easily replaced as the old Post Office. He did realize, of course, that his own perception of things had changed as well in the intervening years. He had seen sights no man should ever be forced to witness. He had done things he would never have imagined doing before he left. He had lived and entirely separate life. Now he was finally home, the place he had wanted so badly to remember, and he couldn’t help but hesitate. If just the town had changed so much - if he had changed so much - what had become of those he had left and loved so dearly? What had become of his siblings? How had they commenced their lives? Were his parents well? God forbid: what if they weren’t still living? He reached into his coat pocket and stroked one of her handkerchiefs and wondered if it would not just be better to turn around and return to where he had been kept safe for so long? Such apprehensions and conflicting memories urged him to prolong his return just a little while longer. He decided to enter into an eating establishment that was new to him, hoping that no one would recognize him before he could make himself known. He sat in a dark corner of the restaurant, ordering only a coffee, listening to everyone else’s conversations, hoping to possibly get some word from home, however he didn’t receive his wish. He finished his coffee and left, deciding to walk the greatest distance home in order to hopefully calm his nerves. He kept wondering if he would run into someone that he had known, but only strangers greeted him as he walked the street. Deeply in need of encouragement, he looked to the east and saw a very welcome and familiar sight, the church he had attended as a child and young adult. It was a very familiar place because of his family’s close connection to the parson and his family. Being there made him feel closer to her, so he couldn’t resist stepping inside the little sanctuary. Time had been kind to the little country church. Little had changed in all the years since he had to leave. He walked to his family’s pew and sat down, remembering all the Sundays he spent in attendance and the innocent life he had left behind. He sat there a while, remembering and praying for the strength to continue with his journey when something on the wall above the pew caught his eye. The evening sun glistened on a tablet hanging on the wall, which simply stated, “Sacred to the memory of Walter Cuthbert Blythe.” Then and only then, did the reality of everything hit him, and he wondered again whether he should even bother to return home leave things as they were. After all, the life he had lived the past few years had brought him much joy despite sorrow. Hadn't life given him enough drama in such a short time? Hadn't his family lived through enough turmoil? He sighed, leaning his head against the back of the pew. He knew the answer to the question. He knew that this was what she had expressly told him to do. She had wanted this for him and for all of them. He couldn't bear to let her down; to cower from her simple yet complicated request. He had to fill in the missing pieces of his two lives, and somehow put them together; his life before Courcelette, and the life he so happily shared with her. |