The Train to Cupar
a Revised Two-Minute story from the Archive
1.
I haven’t been home now in six long years, haven’t spoken to my parents in all that time. I wonder if they ever think of me, if they ever feel sorry that they pushed me away for who I am?
I sit on this bench sharing my sandwich with birds, listening to the repetitious two-note whistle urging me to hurry on board. I want so much to see them, but I just can’t seem to get myself on the train.
2.
He’s coming home today, my boy, after all these years. I’ve asked him to come see me, now that his father is in the ground. I know my son’s a good man. He’s exactly as God made him, no doubt, and I understand that now. We were just too bewildered in those days and his father was a hard, hard man. All I can do now is ask his forgiveness, and forgive myself for sending him away.
3.
We’re having tea, with homemade lemon biscuits tucked in on the saucer. My mother and I sit together at the kitchen table, the two of us, awkwardly studying each other’s faces, not knowing where to begin or how.
“Mrs. McKay’s cow has a new calf,” she says. “Marnie’s girl is off to college.” “Yes, I am still working at the Clarion,” I say. “You are looking thin, mom.”
The mantel clock ticks. Words come slowly, but we will get there.
Once estranged, it is not easy to go home. Liked this, Sharron!
It's never too late to go home. A compassionate look at a mother and child reunion, from three perspectives. Beautifully done, Sharron!