As Arous
began to walk the last bit home, her stomach began to knot. Tears began to
flood Arous’ face as feelings of shame and remorse began to engulf her soul.
Remorse soon turned to bitter anger: she had been self-center and spoiled.
Arous’ mind rehearsed in her head just how it would happen. Would he reject her? Laugh at her? Or pretend
not to recognize her? Guilt and shame began to overtake her, almost stopping
her in her tracks, paralyzing her from taking another step.
She fought
over and over with herself. Fake fights.
Real fights. Useless self-flagellation.
She took
control of her breath. She stopped along
the road to listen. The Bob White’s were
singing, “bob-white, bob-bob-white”.
Blue Jays and Robins gabbed and joked all around her. Soon, an entire
school of blue, silver and green poisajos surrounded her, welcoming her,
encouraging her on. They sung a harmonious song she had missed for a year; her
heart fluttered.
“This is how
you must’ve made my mother feel,” she said.
They paused and blinked a collected yes to her.
Just below
her she could see people in the fields: Sasquatch, men, women, a Desperado on a
horse. As if her ears were opened, she heard singing. Those in the fields were singing as if this
was the first song of spring. It was a song of celebration; Arous had forgotten
that it was Spring Jubilee. Those old songs of faith comforted Arous. As she
walked, she saw more and more beings. Children were running around, chasing
poisajos, making new friends. A Sasquatch helped here, a Momo. Sentient beings came from all outside of
Alippiana; there were Muskogee, Eskimo, Nephilim, Desperado, Swahili, Zulu,
Korean, Prussian, Irish, all the colors of the rainbow and every name they are
called by. Every language a song of dance understood in love.
Arous rounded
the bend in the road to see the two Weeping Willows which opened the two rows
of strong and majestic oaks; the sum of which two glorious magnolias introduced
the house.
At last,
Arous was home.
As Arous’ first
step christened the gravel drive, she could here shouting in the fields and
commotion the half mile ahead at the house. Someone had finally recognized her,
and it wasn’t me, Miguel.
I know, I see
everything, me, Miguel: I missed it all. I was out at the pond, sitting with
that stupid cat while he watched the catfish, Watusi. But at that moment, I
felt. Octavius and I watched it unfold in the reflection of the muddy pond
water.
Her stomach
tied itself up. She could feel bitter
gall rising. Shame glued her to that spot, her paralyzed legs wouldn’t take her
one more inch. But Arous had taken all
the steps she needed for reunion with her Diofe.
At the end of
the drive Arous noticed a figure running toward her. Unashamed and unhindered by his robe and slippers,
the half-naked man ran toward her. She could hear the faint sound of sobs
between his excited gasps for breath. In an overwhelming instant, the large,
warm grasp she’d remembered since a baby engulfed her. He said nothing but sobbed and laughed on her
neck. Arous’ tears met him with muffled
sobs, cries softened by his strong yet tender embrace. For so long, she had
missed calling the name she loved most.
“Daddy, oh
Daddy. I’m home.”
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