Deserted

It's been a long journey. Mostly a very tiring one. Now, more than twenty years and several battles later, my wife and I are back in an old house, once owned by her father, Mr Martin. I feel happy and blessed that our only son, following his grandfather's passion and my footsteps, joined the great fraternity of army. Served and saved people from all across the globe. When he decided to join the army I felt as if he was going to fulfil my purpose as my journey was cut short, very prematurely I would say. Although his mother protested. She is always in disagreement, especially since after I left. I do feel guilty that I missed my only child's birth, and many other "important" occasions, but what could I do! Duty called and I was not allowed to ignore.

I think my darling wife had had enough of men in her life leaving her alone, especially during the time when she felt she needed them the most. She graduated, without her father; gave birth, without her husband; and now taking care of me, without her son. I never regret joining the army and leaving home. I just sometimes regret losing my leg while saving a stranger. Although I would advise no different to my son. Stranger or friend, saving a life weighs more than losing one's own. Anyway, now that it's the two of us again, things have gone back to how it was before. Nothing has really changed. The same old field, sometimes of cold battle, otherwise of warm affection. However the latter is rare these days. So much of unsaid feelings and unfocused emotion hover around that I lose my concentration, followed by my mind. I would love to say that she is more patient than I am, since it takes a lot to take care of a useless man at her age, yet I am not able to say so. When she loses her mind, it's more intense than a battlefield. Total silence, of fury. And when I ignore that and move on, she grudges. Our bed is an Egyptian desert, endless distance and infinite quietness. Yet I need her soft, weak hands to pull me up from this funny little chair and tuck me in every night. I can't even tell if she's there in the room after that. I can only hear silence. But I know she watches me. Every now and then she would turn around, and maybe check if I'm breathing, while pretending to sleep. I, on the other side, start counting invisible stars on the ceiling till my eyelids shut themselves.

Last night I had a dream. In the middle of the night I heard a loud noise. Due to the deep silence around I could hear something breathing. I couldn't tell what it was at first. It was my younger self in the dream and I was not enlightened enough about the animal kingdom to understand what species my enemy would be classed under. Yes, enemy. She was not a friend; a ferocious stranger indeed. I realized we were trapped by the vastness of a desert. Must have been the Sahara. There was a palm tree I think, yes, there was. Despite this little hope in the desert, I was terrified to see a lion right in front of me. I was resting after walking for hours at her dwelling. Will she forgive me?

I woke up at dawn. There was a single sunbeam peeking through the lacey curtain. I wanted to get up and shut it, I actually almost got up when I remembered I am trapped in my life as well. I don't remember what happened after I saw the tiger. Lion! I mean. The sun interrupted my dream. Lucy was nowhere near, but I did not want to call her. I did not want to find out what kind of mood she was in. She came back to the room after an hour or so and I could see the dried tears on her wrinkled cheeks. What is it with her! Almost every morning she delves into her grief of "losing" her son, as if he is dead. I don't think warriors are ever dead. I got my breakfast in bed as usual. She cares enough to keep me alive, although that maybe because she doesn't want to lose her companion again. The day is becoming dark very soon. It's one of those days when I just wanted to stay in bed and she was also very tired, exhausted from her daily chores. She lied down beside me, curled up in the blanket, face towards me. Her blinking eyes reminded me of the dream I had, again, still vague in my memory. I think the lion had a nap after we exchanged eye contact. As a fighter I wouldn't like to admit, but I was unsure of its intention. No word, no voice. The only thing I could interpret was her silence, and her occasional gaze, which were simply bewildering.