Homecoming (Sequel)

I. The Great Circle

Freedom. It was something I craved, above everything. Even above love. The ability to roam around and be yourself without limitation, caused by something, a circumstance, or people. No danger, just the continuous and never-ending feeling of being roaming without a direction and still being on track, even if only lasted for just a moment. Free like an eagle in the big sky, soaring with the greatest wisdom, free like a mustang on the Wyoming plains, beautiful in its temperament.

My own piece of freedom was translated in a language not many people would be willing to understand. The thumping of hooves. One-and-two, three-and-four. A heartbeat. Four hooves crashing down on Mother Earth so powerfully that it made clumps of fresh dirt shoot up from the ground like miniature volcanic eruptions. Stride after stride, it felt like I was flying as I sat quietly in the saddle, letting the horse beneath me run to its full extent. I could feel his strength with every long stride this horse made. Every step was an explosion of power that allowed me to feel more freedom.

My eyes captured every pixel of this beautiful landscape as I flew with Eagle. It was intoxicating. The wind blowing through my hair, tickling my skin, the fresh smell of summer. Hills passed us by in a rippling wave of gold, illuminated by the burning orb in the sky. The feeling of leather woven in between the rough skin of my fingers as an ability to radiate power of this graceful animal. I didnʼt want power, I didnʼt need control over this horse. He was me, I was him. The bond I had with his big animal was already the amount of control that I desired.

This land had allowed me to be free when I was running away from love to keep it safe. I hadnʼt been free, my heart and soul had been captured, paralyzed by the unrepelling essence of fear of being haunted by my own demons, wether fictional or close enough to touch. The chains were broken, the rope removed and the blade was taken out of my neck, the wounds sutured without a trace of there even being one. I was no longer Aphrodite, Anne Boleyn, or Helen of Troy. Here, I was just Demetria, the girl who I had always wanted to be.

The sun stood high in the clear blue canvas that had hovered above me ever since I woke up this morning. From four-thirty to twelve-thirty, all I had seen, was a sky void of clouds and the rays that bronzed my skin. I had been out all morning, riding over these golden stretches of land, along every yard of fence as far as the eye could reach. The tall gelding walked steadily on while my eyes had searched for holes in our line of defense. Its enemy: nosy sheep and reckless cows.

I gently halted Eagle. He whinnied softly as he saw the same sight I did. On top of a golden hill, we looked down upon my home. It was still the same sight, the same beauty, that I had behold the first time I came here. Eight years ago. I had stood here, by the old windmill, and watch this beautiful homestead, wondering how something so beautiful could be overshadowed by the grave feeling of homesickness.

I remember that time like it was just yesterday. 1988, Newcastle Airport. I, a bouncy ten-year-old lass fresh out of Newcastle Upon Tyne, was walking hand-in-hand with my Geordie mam and my Sicilian dad. An unlikely match they formed. It was a one in a million chance that they would meet, fall in love and have me. But somehow, one domino stone was knocked over and fate was turned in their favor. I was their half-breed child. Half British, half Sicilian. Even my heritage was drifting between two elements.

But I was about to drift further away than I ever thought possible. Mam and Dad sat on either side of me on the plane. It would be my first flight ever, and it would lead me all the way to the other side of the ocean. United States of America. My parents were going to chase down the American Dream. America, it held somewhat of a holy meaning in my family. They always spoke of their brothers across the Atlantic. Thirteen years later, I understood. Their brothers belonging to the Five families of New York. But, in hindsight thankfully so, we werenʼt going to the Big Apple. Otherwise we wouldʼve gone from bad to worse.