Going Home

The long dirt road stretched out across a grassy plain, a testament to the endless fields that made Kansas famous, and the sun poured out across the sky like slow-melting butter over freshly cooked corn. A light breeze blew over the patches of yellow grass in the field, causing them to wave gently, like a giant invisible hand reaching down and running its fingers over the top of them. Only a few trees dotted the landscape and except for a few birds heard twittering in the distance, not a soul could be seen, nor were any vehicles to be heard marring the peace and serenity of the long country road. It was a perfect day to be going home, with the countryside welcoming him back by its beauty.

Brian was wearing jeans and well-used walking shoes. His brown tweed jacket was a bit warm for the day but he didn’t even have a thought to take it off—his journey was too important. Nothing would stop him from this long-awaited trek. Excitement welled up inside him like a hot air balloon and made him feel as if any minute he would just float away; the walking here felt easy and light. He’d been waiting so long to come home that he couldn’t remember what it felt like not to miss home. It had been years since he’d been down this road, yet it felt as if it had only been yesterday. With every step he took, more memories flooded to the surface of his mind.

Brian pictured his mom’s face, her gentle brown eyes smiling, with little wisps of dark hair framing a weathered face that had seen too much over the years—she had given so much in her life. She was forty-five when Brian had wanted so desperately to learn how to play the guitar, dreaming he could someday play in a band. Coming from a single parent family, however, made it difficult to do many of the things other kids took for granted, including taking music lessons. His mom worked hard at a sewing factory during the day, waking up early enough to allow her to be home by the time he returned from school.

Money had been tight since Brian's father left one day, never to return. For that reason, Brian had not truly expected to get to take any music lessons, but his mom, Marie, had scrupulously saved money back, doing side jobs and cutting back on necessity items where possible. When Brian’s 15th birthday rolled around, she had prepared a special dinner and his favorite cake—a red velvet cake with his name spelled out across the top with little chocolate cake crumbs. After dinner, she pulled out an old jar she had stashed away in the cupboard and surprised him with a shiny new guitar and the money for guitar classes. His mother had been so happy, her eyes glowing like matching copper pennies.

In another time, Brian saw himself on the back porch of their aged and half dilapidated house. Since receiving his guitar, accompanied by lessons to help him learn how to use it, he would spend endless hours practicing on that porch, wary of wasting the precious gift his mother had given him. Brian lifted up his blue eyes, his brown hair blowing gently in the breeze, and gazed out across the endless sea of grass, searching for the right chord and the right sound. He spent many hours honing his skills during that time and his mom had never asked anything of him—she seemed to only want his happiness, even at the expense of more work for her. At times, it had felt like all his mom ever did was work. It was that knowledge that drove Brian so hard to be good at music, to stand out. He helped out when he could but he knew it was never enough. It bothered him that things were hard sometimes but he hoped to make life easier for her someday.

Off in the distance, a cow mooed, interrupting Brian temporarily from his thoughts of the past. He looked out across the fields again, taking in the silence. This was such a far cry from the city where he’d been struggling for the past few years. It had been exciting at first, but the glory had worn off quickly. It hadn't been easy to live life in the cold, forbidding cement city, where everybody lived in boxes and nobody knew how to cook something that didn’t come in a box, and where the sounds of whispering winds and melodious birds were replaced with the sounds of traffic and the hum of thousands of people crowded into too small a space. It was especially difficult for someone who had grown up with the quiet familiarity of a small town. It sure was wonderful to be going home.

This trip was that much more special for the surprise that he carried in his back pocket for his mom. He’d finally made it with that old guitar his mom had bought him. A couple of buddies of his he met when he’d left the country had gotten together with him and started a band. Just before he left to come home, he’d signed a contract with them and they were to start touring soon. There was a condition, though, that he would get to come home and visit his mother before starting the tour. Well, here he was on the road there.

The anticipation was just eating at him, though. Brian could hardly wait to see the look on his mother’s face when he told her what he had for her. He’d talked to her on the phone before leaving the city but he hadn’t told her about his surprise—he wanted to wait to see the look on her face in person.

Brian used his free hand to reach around to his back pocket to feel the crinkle that indicated the presence of paper in his pocket. Satisfied, he decided to switch his guitar case to his other arm, and put out his thumb. He had heard the rumbling of a motor headed his direction and thought about whether they might stop and pick him up. He knew most of the people that would be driving this way.

He saw an old Chevy Blazer, a metallic blue color, with a bit of the paint fading, heading his way. The driver looked to be an older man, about in his fifties, but he passed right on by. He looked a bit like Uncle Isaac, but that car wasn’t familiar. The man was driving really fast, like he was in a hurry. Funny, he acted like he didn’t even see me, but that’s alright, Brian thought to himself. He didn’t mind walking home; he’d done it often when he’d lived here before, many times taking walks with his mom along this road. He just wished he could get there faster.

Out along the road, Brian looked at the fence. Wire stuck out haphazardly, making a spectacular exit for any would-be animal escapees. In the country, a situation like this was most definitely a danger, both to the animals and drivers. A few cows were grazing in the distance, apparently unaware of the gate to freedom. Ordinarily, Brian would have gone to the fence to see if he could make any reparations, but today it would have to wait--he just had to see his mother, and he kept on walking. Tomorrow, he thought to himself.

Thinking back on his journey to signing the contract, he thought he must’ve been pretty lucky, for a number of reasons. He had left to go to the city when he was 17. He’d just gotten out of high school and had proven himself capable enough with his guitar to get an invitation to move there with an acquaintance of his music teacher. From there, he’d made several friends who helped him try to reach his dream. He'd met his buddies who were now all connected to each other by a band they created. They called themselves “The Brotherhood”, because they felt a kinship in their music and they all felt the same purpose behind it. When they had created this band, he had been thinking of his mother. He told her about the band on the phone. She didn’t know they had gotten a contract though. He had felt fortunate in that endeavor as he remembered it.

He felt lucky again as he thought about how easy it was for him to walk here. He should have been hurting by now, with what he’d been through, but he felt right as rain. It was miraculous, really.

He had left the city with the car he had bought. Ironic how he hadn’t had a car when he’d left home and now he was walking back home, again without a car, though not by choice. He’d bought a used white Geo Metro when he had earned enough money from his side jobs after his first few months in the city. However, when he left to come to the country, he’d gotten all the way to the first part of the country road when he happened upon a cow that had gotten loose from the hole in the fence he’d just passed earlier. Of course, not being this way in so long, he’d not been driving as slow as he should have, and he drove straight into the side of the cow. He’d been stunned at first, maybe even knocked out when he hit his head on the steering wheel, but was surprised when he came to without any pain. Thinking how lucky he’d been, he just picked up his the guitar, got out of his car, and kept on walking. He just had to get home.

Seeing a familiar tree that told Brian his mom’s house was just around the corner, he smiled and picked up his pace. He could already picture the joy in his mom’s face when he showed her the first check he’d gotten, the one hidden safely in his back pocket.

Two miles down the road, where Brian had already passed, an ambulance parked crookedly on the dirt road, red lights flashing ominously. A cow lay on the opposite side of the road, barely discernable from a horse, a cow, or any other large animal, its empty eyes staring into the distance. The window of a white Geo Metro was smashed in with shards of glass mingling with the gravel and bits of dirt in the road. A dispatcher made notes on a tablet while the ER crew took orders.

“Load him up,” someone said in a stern voice. Almost as an afterthought, he whispered softly, sadly, “Too bad. He was almost home.”

Word Count: 1807