The Residue of Home

The darkness held its usual silence with the sudden escapes of noise from motorbikes zooming down the highway to children cackling down the streets past curfew.

Once the momentary roars of the night faded away, Rue could savour the beautiful silence again.

The night always held a certain tranquility that left her heart full, but today the navy sky brought nothing but heartwrenching quietude as Rue Casey craned her neck to see the uncrumpled sheets by her side.  

From now on, her crinkled fingers and sagging cheeks would never feel the warm touch of her beloved Joe; a warmth spread through Rue’s eyes and soon there was a downpour. The pillow lying beneath became soggy from the salty tears and her heart felt as if it was mangled inside the shut door of a car. 

Almost too suddenly, that instantaneous pain turned mellow; Rue’s breathing became deeper and her tears began to roll slowly like the heavy droplets left on green leaves after a raging night storm. 

When Rue opened her eyes, the glassy smear across her irises didn’t completely cloud her vision. Rue gasped and pushed herself up in bed—which took up almost all her fragile energy. She patted down her white floating hair and licked her cracked lips over twice as the woman in front of her sat down by the edge of the bed. 

“Do you remember me?” The woman asked in her all too familiar voice. The frightened expression painted on Rue’s face suggested complete ignorance, but that was not the case. 

“I…I remember…” Rue felt her lip quiver and soon all attempts to speak were met with sniffles and sharp inhalations. 

“Breathe, my darling, breathe,” the woman said, gently placing her hand over Rue’s raisin-like feet. 

“Mom,” Rue said as she remembered her so vividly. 

“Yes, it’s me, Rue.”

“Mom?” Rue began to cry fervently. “How long has it been?” The tears came out ten-fold. 

“I don’t know, my love, it has been too long.” 

It had been decades since Rue uttered the word Mom,  but the feelings came rushing back. That sensation of returning home was something Rue reminisced more than a few times in the past day. 

“I have been remembering you all day.” Rue started as her arm extended painfully towards the side table for a glass of still water. She took a tender sip and the cool liquid slid down her throat.  “I remembered the way you prepared a bowl of fruit and a half jam sandwich once I came back from school; the way you packed my lunch in that Hello Kitty tiffin every morning; the way you told me if I held tightly onto time, it wouldn’t ever move.” Rue made a tight fist with her hand and wondered if that could ever be true. 

“Nothing ever feels like that time again, does it?” Rue’s mother pressed her feet through the duvet while Rue nodded and savoured the warm touch. 

“When did I become old, Mom?” Rue asked and let out a pithy laugh. 

“Well...you are much older than I was, but you will never be old in my eyes.”

“Did you know Joe died yesterday?” Rue swallowed hard as her head craned towards the window. A few young kids ambled around the street, laughing out loud with cylindrical paper bags in their hands. 

“I know,” Rue’s mother whispered. “I’m very sorry. He was a good kid.”

“He really was.” Rue stroked the empty side of her bed with her trembling fingers. “When I saw him take his last breath, I just felt one thing. I felt so grown up. I am as grown up as I can be now.” Rue laughed and her mother tuned into the momentary mirth that filled the silent room. 

“I felt that too, my love.”

“The time to look back has truly come, because there really isn’t much coming forward." Rue paused briefly as her eyes looked far into the distance. "The one day that returns to my mind is when I left home. That day, I became an adult and I’ve been homesick ever since—even after building a beautiful and well-lived life with my Joe. I think that’s what it means to be an adult.”

“What does it mean?” Rue’s mother stood up to look by the window. Her skin was more radiant than a few moments ago and Rue noticed a beautiful white aura illuminating her body. 

“Being an adult means being a little bit homesick. There is always a residue of sadness even when you aren’t reminiscing the past.”

“I always felt a little bit nostalgic and sad my entire adult life,” Rue’s mother commented. “Homesickness. That’s exactly right, Rue. You always have a way with words.” 

Rue smiled, that praise never got old, and hearing it once more made the entire world expand in Rue Casey's eyes. “Did you ever see Grandmama in your sleep?”

“Do you think you’re sleeping?” Rue’s mother asked her as she leaned onto the window sill. 

After pondering over the idea, Rue wasn’t sure. At first, she believed it all was a dream, but everything felt so lucid and her mother's touch so tactile, that Rue found her certainty slip away. “I’m not sure if I’m dreaming or if this is all real.” Rue looked deep into her wrinkled palms wondering if she might be able to see the end of her time etched between the sagging flesh. 

“I saw your dad.” Rue’s mother sat on the floor near the bed and placed her hand inside her daughter’s open palms. 

“Why can’t I see Joe?” Rue said with a trembling lower lip as images of her husband’s still chest meandered in front of her eyes.

“You have been remembering your childhood this past day. The very first time you knew the meaning of home and now I’m here, the first person who helped you feel like there was a comfortable place for you to turn to.”

“What do I do now that you’re here?” Rue looked deep into her mother’s eyes as if they were a door left slightly ajar, waiting for her to walk in. 

“I can’t say much more, my love, except that it’s time for me to go and time for you to wake up or hold my hand and travel far away from this place.” Rue looked at her mother’s tender hand ready to lead her once more. 

Rue then turned to the empty space to the side and slowly sank into her bed until she was flat on her back, her eyes flickering open from a dream that felt so real. The sky was stroked gently with yellow as the chirping birds replaced the aggressive motorbikes and hysterical children of the night. Rue woke up with a pang in her chest. The small place where homesickness throbbed every now and then to remind her she was all grown up and her grandchildren were holding firmly onto time in their sweet hands.