THE HOME COMING
By Johannes Adriaan Snyman
Only twice before, could Rada remember tears building up for days, before releasing the emotion into the anticipated moment.
This time however, her body reacted in a quite different manner, as she couldn’t keep her hands from shaking and the feeling of something stuck in her thought kept her from speaking. Her eyes displaying a constant state of redness, revealed to the airport personal, and anybody else for that matter, that having any form of communication with her was out of the question.
‘If I just wouldn’t be so stubborn,’ she kept repeating to herself, over and over again.
That is something her mom brought her up with. The notion of her stubbornness being an unfortunate inheritance from her father, and Rada in turn developing her obstinacy into perfection.
“I just don’t know how I am like this,” She argued with herself.
“I want to change, I really want to change, but I don’t know how…”
Knowing that if she uttered one more word in her speech to herself, she will start to cry uncontrollably.
She couldn’t have that, as she needed to stay calm and focused.
She was going home now. No turning back. No excuses. No self-righteousness. No Arguments.
Oh! The argument when she left Nathan that day. She could see the hurt in his eyes, but what was he supposed to do? Run after her? She knew the suggestion was as ridiculous, as her behavior leaving him all to himself on the farm, on her way to a better life in France.
That day was probably clearer in his memory than hers. To her it was all so blurry, her leaving, even afterward phoning back home and speaking to him. Rada remember only vaguely the words through the tiny speaker, coming with a vast amount of hurt from very deep in his throat: “You are my wife! Do you have any idea what you are doing?”
Upon those thoughts, a tear started running down her cheek. She quickly wiped it off with her left shoulder, knowing she properly smeared makeup all over her face. But it doesn’t matter now.
She drove through the farm gate, which stood wide open some distance from the old wooden house.
Stopping in front of the farmhouse, Rada looked in the direction of the veranda, searching for any sign of movement.
Whether she stood there for two or ten minutes, she didn’t know.
The door eventually opened, and out came a very neat looking young man, with a dark complexion, indicating farm work of more than a few days in the sun.
He came to a halt at the edge of the wooden veranda, which also served as the front porch.
Whether he stared at her for two or ten minutes, he also couldn’t tell.
And it didn’t really matter either.
The love of his life was home.
As he was walking toward her, she just stood there in her white dress, silently crying. They took a hold of each other to such an extent and with such a grip that both struggled to breath, tears flowing without end, their bodies violently with inner groaning’s that would have moved any person to the brink of the deepest of heart gripping heaviness.
A heaviness, no one’s heart was ever meant to experience.