The Lost Road

The Lost Road

It was still dark out. The sun wouldnât be up for at least another hour but it was time to go.

He stood at the front door looking out onto the dirt path leading from the porch to the road just beyond the old wooden fence that heâd helped his father build when he was just a boy. While his father was alive the fence had held up very well but since his death the boards had begun to rot. Guilt tinged his conscious for not taking better care of it but with his wife and three daughters he just couldnât find the time. He was only human after all.

He gingerly shrugged the feeling off his shoulders and turned to his wife who was on her knees in front of a nearby window, praying. He sighed lovingly as he watched her lips move as she spoke to God. If he could hear her he knew heâd hear her asking for his safe and quick return. She had no part in his decision to go into the city but she supported him in what little ways she could.

Once her lips stopped she looked up toward the old wooden cross that hung above the window. He followed her gaze. The wood had long begun to crack and the edges looked frayed. It was indeed very old.
âI would be more than happy to carve you a new one,â he offered once again but he already knew what her reaction would be.

She smiled as she stood and brushed the dirt from her skirt. âI wouldnât replace it with another made of diamonds and gold.â

He smirked as she rose on her toes to kiss him. Women could be so silly sometimes. âWhat woman in her right mind would turn down diamonds and gold?â

She pulled back and stared up at him, a wisdom he could never understand shone from her lovely eyes, âA woman who has something much more valuable.â She replied with pride.

Pulling her by the shoulders, he hugged her to him and caressed her hair. He rarely understood the things she said but her words seemed to mean so much to her that he never dared argue. Her happiness made him happy.

Once again she pulled away and walked over to the tiny kitchen. âYou should eat something before you leave. Iâve packed some bread and water for your journey.â

There was a bag sitting on the counter that sheâd filled the night before. As he watched her, heâd admired her, as he always had. He knew his wife wanted him at home, yet she went out of her way to make sure his journey would be pleasant. He thought about she always thanked God for her many blessing. She was his greatest blessing. A pain like no other filled him when heâd made the decision to go into the city but it had to be done.

She was locking the clasp on the bag as she made her final attempt to urge him home quickly. âIâm certain we would be blessed with an abundant harvest if you decided to simply buy some roots and seeds from townâ¦â sheâd meant to continue but his heart couldnât bare it.

âThe drought may not be over for some time and we have three little ones to feed and thereâs not much money left.â He explained.

âThe money for your ticket could buy a hefty bag of seeds.â She urged.

Frustration suddenly boiled in his veins. Now was not the time to rise up against his decision. His wife stepped back and lowered her head upon the look of his sudden irritation with her and she quickly apologized and went to the cupboard for some porridge.

He moved quickly to stop her and took her in his arms. âI have to make you some breakfast.â She mumbled humbly.

âMy dearest,â he coaxed, âIâm only thinking of you and the children. I will be back soon enough. Youâll see.â

She smiled but the smile didnât quiet reach her eyes. âI know and I will pray until you return safely.â She kissed him once again and moved away to start breakfast.

He sighed heavily for he knew there was no time even for breakfast. âSome bread will have to suffice, my dear. I have to be own my way.â

The sudden longing in her eyes tore at his heart. âWonât you say goodbye to children?â Tears made her eyes glitter as she turned to face their bedroom doors.

This was a feeling he simply couldnât bare, not today. He grabbed his bag from the counter and turned, not toward his childrenâs rooms but toward the door. âI donât wish to wake them. Kiss them for me, dear.â

He kissed her quickly. The hug they shared didnât last long enough for him to catch the scent of her hair.
He thrust himself forward, out the door, past the porch, down the steps, and along the dirt path without looking back. He felt her eyes on him as the dust kicked up around his heels but he refused to look back knowing the weight of her unshed tears would hold his feet firmly to the ground.

It was a good long walk to the neighborâs home, a wealthy man, with stables and well stocked barn. Heâd bartered with his neighbor for a ride into town. Once heâd made it town he bought his ticket and waited on a bench for the bus to arrive.

This whole time heâd kept the thoughts of his family locked away so that he wouldnât get discouraged and return home. Instead he focused on the drought and all the crops heâd lost. When he was small his father had always sewn few and reaped many. His fatherâs wife and child had never been hungry or in need yet he, himself, had struggled just to make ends meet. It was his great shame that he could not be the man his father had been.

His thoughts swirled away the dust as the buss pulled to a stop where he sat. He took his bag and his pity and climbed the steps, handing his ticket to the driver.

He took his first look down the aisle at the many travelersâsome were old, many were young, there was one mother with her daughter of maybe twelve or thirteen, and a few business men, and many working class. The bus was full.

Where will I sit? He wondered, carefully studying the passengers. He was afraid he would have to sit closely with the strangers or remain standing for the long bus ride to the city.

The bus jerked forward sending him careening down the aisle with his bag in front of him. It took a moment or two to regain his balance as he walked along checking each seat looking for room to sit. He noticed that no one looked up to greet him or offer him a place. This was very discouraging and he was almost to back of the bus.

âHere my good man.â A deep smoky voice called from behind him.

He turned to find the man who was speaking to him.

An older man, dressed in a suit that seemed to have difficulty keeping the bulk of the man within its seams sat patting an empty place beside. âHave a seat.â The man urged but he could only stand there astonished.

He knew had looked in just that spot yet he couldnât remember seeing a seat occupied by such a man and he was certain he wouldâve noticed him. Sweat glistened from his bald head and he coughed loudly as he spoke. He was such a large man his presence overshadowed everyone around him.

âIâm sorry sir.â He apologized moving toward the empty seat. âI didnât see you.â He assured him, feeling terribly rude for walking directly by an only available seat. He hoped the man didnât think he had overlooked him because of his appearance.

âNot to worry. Iâm often overlooked.â The man laughed with a raspy cough and scooted close to the window.

There was just enough room beneath the seat for his bag so he tucked it into the little nook before taking a seat. âThank you.â He offered the large bald man.

âYou are most welcome.â He had to clear his throat to reply.

The man had an odious scent that tickled the back of his throat. He smelled of tar and sweat. The smell was so strong he was forced to breath slow and shallow. He didnât want to be thrown into a fit of coughing because of the strong smoke smell that he wasnât use to.


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