One day soon I will see the patchwork of wheat, tobacco, grapes and barley rise towards me as I arrive. I will wait, weary and sore as all my travelling companion’s portable worlds slide around and around, black and grey, blue and pink, fabric, plastic and steel and we will grab our lives and scurry away like ants before rain.
One day soon I will walk into the air of another life, of another home and perhaps it will be the splatter of rain or the crunch of snow that greets me. Perhaps I will find an ear of the wheat run rampant by the ancient Romans, and tuck it into my sock to feel it travel up my clothes, the way you showed me.
One day I soon will walk to the corner, and stand and look. I will see the home you were raised in next to the home that you died in. Here your (and my) school, there the square where you played, ahead the river and the woods, the fights you had, the friends you made, the love you had and it’s fading fragility. I will release a thousand memories of instants, vignettes that speak of a myriad impressions and emotions.
One day soon I will walk to your mother’s grave. I will sit there and run my hands over the dark granite and the flashes of gold embedded within will speak to me of the spark of life that is taken from us, all of us, always too soon. I will sit and I will hope that I can be worthy of all my ancestors, to live up to your loving grace, atone for our dark history.
One day soon I will climb into a red train, and sit and watch the fields and hills slide by so smoothly. I will dream the dreams of a travelling man, the journeys you made, alone, with me, with all of our family. I will yearn to return to you the way the brooks yearn for the ocean and all the while the forests that bear the weight of your tread will rush past me.
One day soon I will walk through that ancient city, walk to try and find those footsteps, and make my way to that final resting place. There the bones and ashes of Mozart, Brahms and Beethoven, Loos, Freud and Schubert will mingle with your on remains, such as they are. I will fight my desire to run to find you, because I know what I will find- closure, confirmation and consolation, all in a sealed container of ash in a wall.
One day soon I will hear my baby say your name and see him open his heart to the gifts I pass onto him from you; stars in the wilderness sky, the must of mushrooms deep in the forest, the squeak of sand and the rustle of a trillion crystals from the sky. He will stand between his mother and me and join our hearts together, and he will not understand the blessings you granted us. And though I will bless the memory of you, the end to my gratitude will not come any day soon.