Of Hearth and Home

As I trudged along the snow-filled path my bag felt heavy, pulling at the shoulder, compressing my spine. I slipped on the next step, from ice that defied being salted, and paused to catch my breath.

I watched the steam exit my mouth as I breathed out, "I'm almost there" I thought to myself, "just a couple of streets to go". They looked around at the buildings that had once been the most familiar things in the world to me. Did the houses still have the same families inside? Would I recognize each person even if they did? Each window had a glow, from the bulbs illuminating the indoors, as people started to relax for the night in their own cosy world away from the trouble and cold outside.

I decided to give up with the path, my feet were sodden anyhow so I stepped into the small bank of snow covering the grass that usually lined the path. The extra effort of walking in snow was a tolerable price for having a better grip under each step. Taking a deep breath I enjoyed the smell of different dinners emanating from each house. Each smell taking me back to a different memory, all before the world had changed forever.

Taken back to the time when these streets had been one large playground, and life was comfortable I recalled seeing the newscaster on a friend's tv pleading for people to join the armed services, to help fight the rebels from stealing much-needed food and medicine. Ever since the climate had fundamentally changed at its last tipping point a 'proper' harvest was hard to come by so my friend and I stepped up to meet the challenge.

Basic training was a whirlwind of emotions as we were rushed through and then shipped out to the 'front lines'. The land out at the borders was very different from home, the dirt was hard and dry, resisting all attempts at terraforming that the scientists thought would keep the land as some version of the farms that were originally there.

Abandoned farmhouses were the best cover from an enemy that was ruthless and desperate. Food was even harder to find out here as the army struggled to find supplies of any kind to send the troops.

As I rounded the last corner my reverie was disturbed by a bright flash of colour. I immediately hunkered down while also shifting closer to the hedge on the other side of the path, eyes searching the street for the cause. It was only a fraction of a second before I realised it was a small piece of brightly coloured metal shaped like a cat to try and keep birds out of the vegetable garden across the road catching a glimpse of the moonlight.

A smile spread across my face as I remembered helping our neighbour fix the stake into the ground. My eyes rose to look at the house above wondering again, if I came back in the morning, would sweet old Aunty May greet me with the huge smile and bear hug of my youth.

Ultimately, that had been the hardest part of the war, no-one ever got news about what was happening back home. For all we knew everyone had died or moved to other countries, for us, there was nothing but empty dirt fields and raiding parties. Over time as we chased the rebels down we had ended up in smaller and smaller groups ourselves. Eventually, it had diminished into me and 1 rebel. I buried the last team-mate behind a water tank that had been empty for years with the dead remains of a rosebush around its supports. The attempt at having a flower of any kind to honour their life and efforts.

My gaze returned to the metal cat, I'd felt as numb as that cat as I slowly wandered in the direction of home. The last of the rebels I ever saw was that 1 man falling over the edge of a long-forgotten river hitting the bottom was as hard as hitting concrete. I had stared at his body for what seemed like hours, I thought I would feel relieved at the end but while I was grateful to be at the end the weight of everybody, both friend and foe was an enormous weight on my soul.

Slowly I had turned and headed back, it took days to reach the army outpost, to discover it was indeed all over. The war was finished, and scientists had turned their attention to other ways of solving the food shortage. Ways which had proven much more fruitful in all senses of the word. I was discharged and told I could return home.

I stood up again and looked down the road toward where home had always been. I did not doubt that the house itself would be there, all these streets had survived well, barely touched by the conflict, if at all. But home wasn't the house, it was the people. "Well, no point putting it off any longer".

I hesitated at the gate, such a long time had passed, and I had changed far more in those years than I had thought possible. As I lifted the latch to enter I heard a scream from inside the house and before I could react further than opening the gate my little sister launched herself at me as she ran out of the house, hugging me so tightly I could barely breathe. I didn't care though, I wrapped my arms around her as I sank to my knees, tears running down my face, happy, tired, and finally safe I could no longer keep the soldier's mask in place.

They were all there; Mum, Dad, older brother and his wife. Amid all the hugs and cheers I was wrapped in a blanket and placed in front of the fire to dry out. The winter memories of my childhood combined with this evening there was no snow, no cold only love and warmth. A hot stew was placed in my hands smelling like heaven. It had been an eternity since the last time this had happened and yet I felt no time had passed at all as my sustaining thoughts of home came true in an instant.