The rain beat against the car window. The windshield wipers swished frantically back and forth but it felt like a useless cause against the torrent of rain. It was getting hard to see anything clearly. I felt that this might be a sign from a higher power that what I was about to do was a bad idea.
I was going to see my father after twenty years. He still lived in the same town on the same farm. And, I wondered if anything had changed.
I pulled off to the side of the road and clicked on my hazard lights. The rain softened when I slowed and I leaned my head against the steering wheel. Stale cigarettes and old coffee clung to the air around me. I rubbed my face, thinking back to when I was younger.
“Thomas!” my father said. His deep voice reverberated across the fields where we were playing.
“Don’t worry Dad! I can catch it!” I shouted.
I had seen a rat in the grass while we were walking. Something about its long pink tail compelled me to chase after it. The grass hit my knees and pricked my fingers but I kept running. After a sprint, the rat seemed to have disappeared. I was thoroughly disappointed that I couldn’t catch it.
“You stupid rat!” I yelled. My hands were scratched from fumbling in the grass.
“Thomas, you don’t need to be angry at the rat,” my father said, coming from behind. His shadow covered me from the bright summer sun.
“The rat is stupid.”
He laughed. “But Thomas, the rat is trying to live his life in the meadow. We are the guests here. Let us leave him to his home.”
There was a tap on the window. I jerked my head and breathed in quickly. Shoot, I must have dozed off. I look out the window to see a police officer. A woman in her 40s had her hands on hips as I rolled down the window.
“Everything alright here?” the police officer asked.
“Sorry m’am, I was just taking a moment to wait for the rain to stop,” I say.
“License and registration, please.”
“Uh, okay.”
My fingers fumble to my wallet and I grab the registration from the glove compartment. I have nothing to hide but my hands shake in nervousness.
“Okay, Thomas Levvy,” she pauses. “Are you Patrick Levvy’s son?”
I sit in silence for a moment. How do I explain the situation to this woman?
“Uh, well yes, I am his son. One of his sons. But, I am not sure he would call me his son. You see, I'm returning after a long time away.”
The police officer raises her eyebrows but says nothing more. She glances at my car registration and then hands everything back to me.
“Alright, but you best be careful. You don’t want to sit here for too long. The rain starts collecting around here, fast. Next thing you know you’re in a lake.”
“Thanks for that,” I say. I lift my hand in an awkward salute and roll up the window. I check the time on my watch. The dial reads 4:15pm. Was I asleep for an hour? I wanted to be at my father’s house by 3:00pm so that I would be able to slip in before he got back from his work in the fields. I guess that plan was no longer plausible. I start the car and put it in drive. In my rear view mirror, I see the police woman wave from her car. The red and blue lights flash twice and then she pulls away in the opposite direction.
Seeing the police always makes me feel shaky. I had too many bad encounters. Or maybe I was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. The police make me think of Cara. I rub my eyes as the memory of her last night hits me. She completely overdosed on my stash of cocaine. I shook her body so hard, I thought I had shaken the breath from her. I called the police in a frantic state. Everything happened so fast.
“What’s your emergency?” the voice on the line said.
“I, my, my friend,” I stuttered. “My friend is dying. I think she overdosed.”
I was close to Cara’s body and holding her hand. She was limp. She wasn’t moving. It seemed that I was too late.
“Sir, give me your address. We will send help right away.”
The rain started to slow and I could see the trees and fields. This land had a special place in my heart. When I left, I would often think about my brother and I playing in the fields, chasing snakes and rats. A tall oak tree stood to the left of the road. This tree indicated the corner of my family’s property. Could I call it “my family’s” property? Was I even part of this family anymore?
I left when I was 17 with my pockets full of cash. The cash was not earned but was taken. Earlier in that year, I demanded that my father give me the inheritance money from the family farm. I felt that it was my right to have access to that wealth when I was young. My father was infuriated and spent many nights arguing with me. I was so full of myself and my own ambition that I laughed in his face.
“You think I want to stay here on the farm?” I scoffed. My hands ran through my hair. “I want to live as far away from here as possible. I want to see everything, experience everything. I can’t stay here on this land where the only good thing that happens is when the cows take a dump.”
My father’s face reddened. “How dare you say that. This land has been in my family for generations. I will die here. And it will be an honor to be buried with my ancestors. You want the money? Fine. I will take out a loan on the land and give you what you would have received when I died. But I am telling you Thomas, this is the final thing you will ever get from me. If you would rather believe I died, then I will treat you the same. You will be dead to me when I sign those papers.”
My father stood. His presence filled the room. He pushed in his chair and walked around me. I could see he was angry and also sad. There were tears streaming down his face. I didn’t even care that I was breaking my father’s heart. He gave me what I wanted and that was all that was important to me. My father turned before leaving the room. He looked tired. I smirked.
“Thanks, old man.”
As I pulled into the driveway, my tire hit a pothole in the dirt road. The car lurched up and down and I heard a crunch. I opened the door to see if there was any damage. The car wheel twisted in an unfortunate angle, looking like a clipped wing of a bird. I hit the gas again and there was another crunching sound. The car was stuck, broken or both. I would have to walk the rest of the way.
This car had already seen so many miles. The backseat was covered in papers, bags and dirty clothes. I had spent many nights curled up in the back of this old car. It seemed weird to leave it behind before talking with my father. I realized that since I would have to walk, I should try to make myself at least somewhat presentable. I looked in the side mirror to see grim around my eyes and long scraggly hair around my chin. It was a pretty bad look but I was in a pretty bad place.
After Cara died, I decided to fling myself into even more destructive company with even harder drugs. I abused my body and made myself high each night to try and forget. I wanted to forget everything. Sometimes, I cursed God that I hadn’t died yet. I wanted to die and meet Cara on the other side. But somehow, after each high, I would still be alive. I would still be breathing. I rubbed my eyes, slapped my cheeks and started to walk down my childhood driveway. A place that seemed hauntingly familiar.
What did I think my father would do? Why did I come back here? As things progressively got worse, there was a point where I didn’t have money for food. I had spent all my inheritance, Cara had died, and any friend that I thought I had no longer answered my texts or calls. As the money dried, so did all the relationships around me. I was living on the streets and didn’t even have enough money for a granola bar at the gas station. Sitting in a dirty corner of an alleyway, I sifted through trash to find something half eaten to eat. As I moved a slimy plastic bag, a rat scurried out and hissed at me. It was at that moment that I realized that I had hit a new low. Even the rats rejected me. As the rat turned and skidded away, I remembered the rats at my father’s farm. They never seemed angry or wanting for food. They lived in the fields and the barn and ate some of the grain set out for the horses and cows. Even the rats had enough to eat. At that moment, I knew I needed to go back to my father’s house.
My feet crunch the gravel in a pleasant way. As I continued down the driveway, my pace started to slow.
What would I say to my father? What was I thinking coming back here?
I look down at my hands. They are dirty. I look up at the sky. It is bright blue. A robin twitters in the distance. I notice that I have made my way to the small bridge. This bridge marks where my father’s property actually begins. There is only the sound of the robin and a soft breeze on my neck. Should I have come back here?
I rub my eyes and think about everything that has happened. When I see my father, I’ll ask him to let me work in the barn. I don't need anything from the house. Just a place to rest my head. I could always just use a bit of soil to grow some food. I wouldn’t need anything from my father. I just need a small corner to rest my head.
I breathed in deeply. The robin still chirped somewhere in the distance. I crossed the bridge.
My father’s land was beautiful. I was such a lucky kid to have grown up here. The wide open sky with trees, streams, and fields. The colors of the land remind you of something greater than yourself. I had forgotten this feeling. The way the open sky and the birds make you feel alive. The path turned and sloped slightly downward. From here, I could see my father’s house. The white farmhouse with a wrap around porch. I stopped.
My heart started to pound.
What did I think would happen if I came back here?
The house sat in the same place it always had. And because I hadn’t seen it in so long, it brought to mind all the memories from when I was a kid. Running around with my brother, playing in the rain, going stargazing from our front porch.
I looked at the house again. It sat peacefully against the blue sky. My heartbeat pounded in my ears.I didn’t deserve to go back. After everything, I was not worthy to ask my father for this favor.
I stopped walking and noticed a slight thumping sound in the distance. As it grew louder, I realized it was the sound of someone running. From the turn in the driveway, I saw my father rush toward me.
“Thomas!” he shouted.
I stood paralyzed. I had prepared a whole speech for my father but this was not how I imagined us meeting. I lifted my hand for a handshake. My father continued towards me with arms outstretched and a smile on his face. In one swift movement, he hugged me.
“My son,” he said. “Thomas, I am so glad you’ve come home. My boy.”
As my father hugged me, I felt my heart start to soften. Was my father happy to see me? I lifted my arms to return the hug and found myself starting to sob.
“Dad,” I tried to say. “I… I always wanted to… I am so sorry.”
“Shh, shhhh.” My father whispered in my ear, “I have been waiting for you, day and night. And now, you have come home. Welcome home, my son.”
We parted our embrace and I looked into my father’s face. Tears were in his eyes and on his cheeks. He had aged over these last twenty years. My father had gone completely gray and his clothes hung more loosely around his shoulders. He put his hand on my head and ruffled my hair.
“You’ve started to gray, my son. I can see a few hairs, “ he said.
“Dad, you’ve grayed completely.”
My father smiled and chuckled. He put his hands on my shoulders. Again, we faced each other. This time, my father looked me directly in the eyes. His deep brown eyes seemed concerned. We stared at each other for a few moments. I was reminded of all the years on the farm. I remembered our last conversation before I had left. Before I could speak, my father said, “Thomas, you are welcome here. Not only that, you are my son. I will have you know that there is a place for you here. All is forgiven. After you left, I have been praying and watching for you to return. And now…” his voice cracked “Now, you have returned, and you are alive. Praise the Lord!”
My dad hugged me again. This time I received the embrace and hugged back. I didn’t even realize how much I needed to hear my father’s voice.
“Dad,” I said. “I know I don’t deserve it but I need a place to stay. Could I sleep in your barn and do some work for you?”
My father pulled back. “The barn? Like one of the animals?”
“Well, yeah, I don’t want to impose and I know that I shouldn’t even be here.”
“Thomas, you will not sleep in the barn. You will not work with the animals. You are my son.”
He shoved his hand in his pocket and took out a ring. It was a ring with our family crest on it. One of our ancestors long ago had said it was forged with metal found on the land. My father grabbed my hand and put the ring on my finger.
“This,” he said. “This means that you are my son. You were lost but now you are found. You are not a worker. No. You have everything that is mine.”
“Dad,” I said. “I don’t deserve this. I spent all your money and I have gone to places… I mean, I have wasted everything.” I lowered my head.
My father said again “You are my son. All is forgiven. Come to the house and let us celebrate your homecoming.”
My father wrapped his arm around my shoulders and started to tug me along. We moved toward the house. One step at a time. As we walked, I told my father about what had happened during those twenty years away. I told him about Cara, the drugs, and the gambling. I told him everything. As we walked, my father nodded his head in an understanding way. I felt the weight of my past mistakes slowly slip from my mind and heart. I had changed over these past twenty years. It was amazing to think that my father still cared for me. He seemed adamant to call me his son. I never realized I needed to hear his voice, that I needed to hear him forgive me. Could I forgive myself?
As we approached the front step to the house he turned and said,
“You were lost, my son, but now you are found. Let us go home together.”
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