I want to walk today. A light rain is falling. I always liked walking under the rain.
I can feel the raindrops. They evaporates as soon as they touch my skin. Like a rain in the desert.
I have not walked on these roads for years. Everything seems same, but i will need more time to see how much has changed. War has changed me, as it has changed my village. All of us need some rest. I need my family.
After years, coming back home at Christmas dinner and everyone is waiting for me; these all fill me with happiness.
Also, without having to see everyone individually, in just one evening I can get rid of all this fanfare. I do not want more crowd. All I want is to sit over my typewriter and write everything i lived. As if I write everything to the papers, I will remove all of them from my heart.
I can see my street. All the houses adorned with sparkling Christmas lights. It is like a funfair and every house is like a separate game box. While i am walking to my home, I am having a look inside the houses. In all houses, I can see the excitement, enthusiasm and fuss. While the women are preparing the table, men are chatting in the corner. Kids are running after the dog. Teenagers are at the upper floors and tasting their short-term freedoms and probably they are planning about how to escape from home tonight. I know, because we did, too.
But, I understand now that our families already knew what we were going to do. Now, I respect and miss my parents more.
Finally, I am in front of my home. The garden is a little bit neglected. Tomorrow, I am going to start taking care of the garden. Thus, I can spend some time without thinking about anything, and everyone in the neighborhood can learn that I am back.
I am walking around the garden and approaching the side window. During my entire ride back home, I thought about how to surprise them. But, when I come here, I just want to watch them a little. I want to see how they are without me, and all the rush for preparations. I want to watch secretly; wrinkles on my father's face, the table my mom prepared, bustle of the children of my sisters and of course my loyal friend Max.
I approach to the window and lightly hold my head. Everyone is at home. As always, dad is seating in his usual place with an old book in his hands, and smoking his pipe that I gave him on his 60th birthday. My mom as always is yelling to my sisters.
I remember my command in the war. By being aware that all our lives were in his hands, he was giving most critical order without thinking and we all were obeying without questioning. This is how we could survive.
My sisters continue to gossip as soon as mom turns back. First time I see how mom smiles when she turns back. As she knows our escape plans from upstairs, she is aware of everything and just let us do whatever we want.
In fact, everything is happening in her control.
I look at the table; my place is ready. The most precious place of the table, that everyone can ask me any questions and I cannot escape. And my favorite dishes are on the table. I am sure; my favorite dessert with ice cream is in the refrigerator and waiting for the order.
If I could hold out until the dessert, the rest is easy. Because, it means that the time for children to sleep, teenagers to escape and men to drink, is approached.
Mom called everyone to the table. Boys and girls are running down, I think everyone is starving. Maybe they do not know my arrival time; they do not want to leave the children in pain. I can wait a little bit more. I can jump in after they start eating.
No, I guess Max saw me. He came to the window and started to bark. Mom began to approach slowly to the window. Quickly i hided under the window. I used to do this when she came to the window to check me when she heard my sounds while escaping. I wonder if she really knew that i was hiding there, under the window.
Mom opened the window and slowly looked outside. She looked at the right and left. I swear my heart will leave my body. I just want to stand up and hug her, but as I was 15, I continue hiding. Then, she slowly looks down, to me. Her eyes are full with tears, and a tear left her eyes and started a very long journey directly to my face.
And mingle with the earth by passing through me.
Window closes and the saddest Christmas dinner starts.