Lazarus, that's my name. I was trapped on an island in 1944, for fifteen years. An Earthquake destroyed many underwater mountains making fishing possible for the region I was trapped in. It led to my rescue.
When I was deployed in the war, my beloved wife and four-year-old son were
heartbroken. After years of prayer, did we get our son. I couldn't see him grow
up and become a man. I couldn't teach him how to shave or how to do basic
repairs of a car or teach him how to ride a bike or shoot. I couldn't be there
for my wife. She might have suffered a lot. Some part of me wishes that she
remarried yet, my soul prays she is still waiting for me. I miss her smile when
I would be cutting the firewood or sweeping the yard. She needed me for
everything in the house. My heart melts when I think of how she had to take
care of the house and raise our son alone.
My son would be a man by now. The man of the house. I
hope he is good to his mother. I hope he does well in school. I hope he has not
replaced me. I hope they have not replaced me.
The train of
thought was disturbed by a sudden beam of light hitting Lazarus's face. He sat
straight, looking out the window. Paddy fields and hills stretch as far as the
eye can see. Bright golden sunlight occasionally peeks through clouds that look
like cotton balls. Birds in different formations take to the skies. The gentle
rocking of the train felt like that of a mother. The hot tea which he cupped in
his arms radiated warmth throughout his body. The smell of tea and people laughing
filled the carriage. Only a few more hours and then he can see his family
again. The small compass now glinted in his hands, his thumb brushed over the
crack on its glass. A small child sleeping on his father's shoulder dropped
his toy. When he returned it and resumed his seat, Lazarus decided to give the
compass to his son. It will be a great conversation starter. The story behind
his struggle for survival. How he spends each evening imagining a dinner with
his son and wife. The smell of baked bread spread a smile on his face. As he
dunks a crisp piece of warm bread in the tea, he wondered if his son still eats
bread like this.
He turned over and opened the compass to look at the
picture of his wife and son. It's now crumbled and almost faded but, he could
always see them there, smiling. Having put his head on the window again to feel
the sway of the train, Lazarus found no resistance in going back to his dreams.
My only fear is finding another man in the house. What
if she remarried? Why do I hope that, she had someone to lean on in my absence
but that he should leave now that I am back? Maybe my son may have found a
better father figure in one of his teachers. But that is no longer needed as I,
his father, is now back.
As the train exited the tunnel, new honey-like
sunlight washed his face for a moment. When he was blinded by it, he saw a
happy family, him, his son, and his wife. They aged. His son is a big strong
capable man now. His arms are around them. They look complete.
The orange evening skies called back birds to their
nests. He walks down the familiar path to his home. Almost nothing has changed
same post office. Same rivers. Same skies since he saw as a child, teenager, and a
man. This is the perfect evening, she may be busy in the kitchen, our son will
soon come back home and now, so will I. The house looks exactly the same from
afar. The chimney is smoking clouds into the sky. The house plants she kept on
the kitchen window still smile. The faint shadow of a woman can be seen on the
window. That familiar shape, her movements are like a flower in the breeze. He
could almost feel her smile on his lips. As he knocked on the door, he was also
prepared to see a man opening the door. If she was married, he was now prepared
to let it be. Lazarus felt his arms getting colder each second the door didn't
open. All his life contracted to a single second, and Lazarus could almost feel
that second converging on him. The door opened.
'Eve, it's me Laz.'
He slowly embraced her. After a brief moment, a small
hand was felt on his back. She invited him in. the small living room is full of
their son's pictures. The trophies and ribbons in them told many stories. His
eyes panicky looked around for another wedding photo but, there were none. He
sat at the head of the table and, she took the seat to his left. They said
nothing for a few moments. His hands found hers. They were cold but familiar.
'There wasn't a day I didn't think about you and Jack,' he waited for her to
enclose her hands around his, but she didn't, she sat there looking at the
fireplace with a blank face. Her face looked like someone drew it. 'I was
trapped on an island they found me only a few days ago, I wanted to give you a
surprise that's why I didn't call. I thought I would never see you again… I
thought I would never talk to another human being again.'
The door opened and a strapping young man came in.
jack knew, exactly who this man was. He stood frozen as Lazarus ran to his son
and took him in an embrace. A moment later, jack returned the embrace. They parted.
Jack made no move to remove his sweater jackets. He moved to his mother and
touched her shoulder. Jack sat at the head of the table. Lazarus took the seat
opposite Eve. He relayed the story of his entrapment and survival on the
island. Sometime later, he gave the compass to jack, who held it close to his
chest as something resembling a dew formed in the corner of his silent eyes. They ate in silence.
The next day Lazarus repacked his bag and before the
family awoke, he silently walked through the dew-covered grass to the railway
station. Birds are waking up and singing. The eye of the sky is opening. The
squelch of his boots on the dewy ground is rhythmic and calming. Spending all
his money on the ticket to the farthest train, Lazarus sat in silence. Jack and
Eve woke up. Eve came to Lazarus' room with his tea but, there was no sign of
him having slept, and his bag is gone. She put the tea on the table and sat
looking at the fire. Jack sat with her for a few minutes, and poured some tea
from the cup into the saucer, and drank it. He went out with an ax and started
to split firewood. Eve drank the rest and tightened her apron.
As the train gained speed, Lazarus took out his
notebook and poured his heart into it.
"I don't blame them. They became me to survive.
As they did what I was responsible to do, they stopped needing me. I could have
stayed back they would have let me stay. They would have given me food. They
would have loved me in time. They would have looked after me as if I was the
man of the house. But something would have been missing. They lost their husband and father they
missed him, they mourned him and, they became him themselves. I saw the
fireplace stocked with wood. She would pester me for days before I would stock
the fireplace. The yard is clean and proper. I didn't do it. Jack is doing well
in school, I didn't send him. I didn't pay his fees. My army pension may have,
but I didn't. Eve found happiness I didn't help her. They found life in the
chaos, I didn't make it easy. I was trapped on that island they were trapped on
the world. I hunted to survive they didn't. All I know is how I survived
perhaps it was tougher for them than me. All I had to do was find food and
shelter, but they had to live. They split what a father is and divided the
responsibilities. What is the point of being resurrected from the dead if you
were not living in the first place?
It is not to live or survive but to have a life to
live is more important. They have it. I must find it."
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