Rebirth
Between deep blue skies and swaying green fields lies a house of significant grace and warmth standing up out of the ground with purpose. The curtains in the open windows of the second floor mimic the dances of the curtains on the first. Inside A mother prepares a meal, flowing around her kitchen with ease as her two eager daughters watch with anticipation of what she will do next. The taller one stands with her fingers wrapped around the top of a bowl full of cake batter, her eyes peek over at whats inside, the curls on her head cascade down the sides of her head to the top of the dress she wears.
A smaller one leans on the counter tugging at the taller ones dress, curious eyes peer up from a head bearing the same curls as her sister. “What’s going on? I can’t see.” The little one asks, dragging out the word see until she is out of breath. The mother notices and makes the time in her flow to grab a stool and lift the little one to the table where bread is being kneaded out. Through the open window there are sounds of a hammer out by an old wooden fence. A man kneels down showing a young boy how to set wooden lengths through holes in posts creating a nice wooden fence to compliment the architecture of the house. Two horizontal lengths of wood sit connecting on both ends to vertical posts at lengths of roughly 8 or 9 feet. The lengths are triangular in shape, appear weathered and have a twist that wraps around it self several times.
The boy has a small toylike wood workers hammer in the loop of his tiny blue overalls. His blond hair is starting to shag into his blue eyes which are full of wonder while watching his father construct the fence that the boy believed would keep out any and all evil. “Lunch is ready!” the taller one call from the front door, with the little one by her side. The father with a smile picks up the boy and lifts him to the broad perch of shoulders and before they turn around as one dust can be seen kicked up on the dirt road in the distance. A mammoth of a machine can be seen, two tank like tracks in the rear pushing two guiding wheels in the front, eight or so shiny helmets peeking over the top in the back. The father turns towards the house, “Tell your mother the world has come!” As he approached the door he took the small boy and held him in his arms as they hurried inside. With the door locked behind the parents rushed to close windows, and gather us all together so that we could hide. The eldest sister stood holding onto the boy and the little one near the staircase.
Through the ears of the boy, the mammoth is heard near the end of the driveway and ultimately near the front of the house. I hear the men yelling, I look to my parents who are making final preparations, I hear the boots stomping the ground looking for us, I look to my sisters who stand in shock. It is at this moment I break out of their arms and run through the back door. In a state of confusion the family huddles in a crawlspace behind a small table underneath our staircase. I run, my feet hit the hard dry ground until I reach the fence which has some small uncleared brush I decide to hide in. I see the soldiers storm around the house some have their rifles raised as they search the perimeter. Others are wrapping cloth around the end of long wooden sticks then lighting them aflame. I watch as a tall man oversees the operation with a cold stern face, his arms are crossed and he dawns a large officers hat. The soldiers who are dressed in full uniform wear dark clothing, their equipment clanks and rattles as they surround the house. One man fires several shots into an upstairs window as the other throws the flaming stick through it. Another knocks our first floor windows and is followed by soldiers tossing the flaming sticks emotionless and obedient. All I can do is stare, in shock I stand up and slowly walk along the outside of our fence. My hand glides along the lower rung of wooden lengths which are at my waist. I watch the smoke rise blackening the beautiful blue sky, orange flames begin eating away at the ride wooden skeleton of the house my father built.
I stop and stand in awe, the smoke like my families souls pouring out of our windows. This is when the officer takes notice of my prescience, the soldiers are standing in the front yard some keeping watch while others light cigarettes and stare at the ground. The officer makes his way towards me but I barely notice, my knees sit on the ground my hands sit calm next to them. The brush sways, time continues but I am stuck, the fence I am sitting in front of has the top length hanging in one post while the other end sits on the ground by the horizontal length, the last piece my father and I would have connected to finish the fence. I look to the left and see the officer taking a knee next to me, not looking at the house or anything else but me. Behind him is one soldier squinting and scanning the fields, and another soldier facing away from me clutching the muzzle of his rifle and the butt on the ground, probably wishing he was somewhere else. I look back at the cold face of the officer staring through my skin, his strong passionate eyes. He pauses, does not say a single word, and when I think he will pull out his pistol, he opens his arms to me and I jump into them without hesitation. It is at this moment that I feel an intense sensation of love, not regret or sorrow, but compassionate love.
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