Home
My hand lifts the latch on a solid wooden door, which then swings open. Before me is a kitchen. A woman, her back to me, is oblivious to my presence. She is tending to the oven. The smell of freshly baked bread hangs in the air. I am compelled to enter the room although I know not why.My eyes leave the woman and scan the remainder of the room. My scan reveals that the room is more than just a kitchen. To the left is a large living room. Two boys are seated at a couch. One appears to be writing, the other reading. The latter boy seems restless and before long gets up and sprawls himself on the floor, head held aloft by palm and elbow.
“Oh, hi dear,” says the woman. I spin around. The woman is smiling. She walks toward me and places a kiss upon my cheek. “Boys, your father’s home,” she says in an elevated voice.
“Hi dad,” say the boys in unison. They continue their activities.
I remove my boots and sit at the end of the harvest table that spans the breadth of the kitchen.
The woman glances at the boys as if to catch their intentions. Satisfied that they are content, she says in a softer voice, ”Dear, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’m worried. Alex is really smitten with this war business. Those stories you’ve been telling, all this talk about duty… the King. I wish you wouldn’t.”
Her eyes search mine. I offer no reply. I stand and walk toward her. She rests her head upon my shoulder and we share an extended embrace. After a few moments she takes a deep breath, looks up and smiles.
“Let’s eat,” she says. “The paper’s on the hutch.” She turns and walks back to the counter. She calls to the boys, “Alex, Benny, supper’s ready.”