The Return

Rose had forgotten when she began watching. She could not remember the month, day or time really, just it was long ago. She would come every day and look. Every day, she would rise for the morning, dress, eat, and then come up to a window and watch. Later, she would tear herself away from the window to eat the midday meal and do the pressing housework before watching again until dinner. After dinner she would watch until she tired and went to bed.

Today was no different. Rose was watching out the attic window (it being one of the best views of the neighborhood below) and happened to see that her next door neighbor, Mrs. McKenzie had changed the blue star that hung in her window to gold. Rose’s heart cried out for the poor woman whose son had just turned twenty and was full of promise. It was this war, she would often think to herself. It had gone on far too long. She, selfishly, wanted things to be where they were before, when her beloved was in her arms. Rose knew, however, that no amount of wishing would bring the dead soldiers back.

She and her beloved had married soon after graduation, and before he eagerly went off to defend his homeland, they had agreed to wait to start their family. So as she watched the children return home from school, she was alone except for the golden retriever that lay by her feet. Wrapping her shawl around her after deciding the attic was chilly, she softly patted her hand against her thigh, the sound barely echoing in the cobwebbed room.

“Come Toby.” She whispered as she walked down to the main floor of the house with her faithful companion following.

Upon reaching the main living room, she placed the cardboard box full of assorted metal by the door. The local Boy Scout troop would be by to collect it anytime now. Rose had gone through her garage the day before and gathered any sort of metal that could be used to make more weapons and tanks for the army. Tomorrow at the neighborhood elementary school the Girl Scout troop was holding a holiday craft fair to raise money to buy more war bonds. She had promised some of her neighbor’s girls she would come.

Sighing, she went into the kitchen, opening the pantry to feed Toby. As if he knew, his tail started to wag in anticipation. She poured the food into his dish and walked away to gather the basket by the back door. The list of vegetables she needed lay nestled inside. The old worn door creaked as she opened it spilling daylight into the kitchen. Pulling on faded gray rubber boots and threadbare gloves, Rose trudged through the door into the wetland. It had rained just hours ago, a preview of the soon to be arriving snow, and so the dirt in her victory garden was the consistency and color of fudge pudding.

Her boots sticking to the mud, she went down rows of vegetables plucking and selecting the ones she wanted. Satisfied she had plenty; Rose cradled the basket abundantly full of crisp and fresh items for her stew as she walked through the kitchen door. Setting the weighty basket down on the small table, she tugged off her boots, pulled off her gloves, and started to gather the rest that she needed. The wicker basket set next to a war worn letter, full of holes or black rectangles that made up most of the paragraphs. It was her beloved’s latest letter, dated three months ago, but it had reached her yesterday. In it, her beloved discussed a possible return but anything else was blacked or cut out by the sensors. She had yet to hear anything more. She would have to wait for his next letter. Rose dared to hope that maybe her one Christmas wish would come true. He’d be home.

Cutting up the vegetables as the broth and meat simmered, she glanced upon the pile of ration coupons she was setting aside. Rose had the perfect welcome home meal planned for her beloved’s glorious return. A hearty dinner of roast, potatoes, carrots and green beans fresh from her garden, fresh buttery bread and gravy. To finish, a chocolate cake for dessert. Meanwhile, she lived mostly on the meals she could stretch out for days to save more coupons. Handful by handful she plopped the cut vegetables into the pot, until there were no more on the cutting board. Picking up her favorite wooden spoon, she stirred before letting the pot sit.

Rose moved the basket back to its normal shelf and folded the letter back up and placed it on the living room table. After setting the table with a bowl and spoon she placed a slice of sandwich bread on her small plate. The dog whined for a bit of food, so she bent down and patted his head before moving into the pantry in which she selected one of the old dog treats for Toby before giving it to him. She picked up her bowl and went into the kitchen, took the pot off the stove and set her bowl on the counter while finding her ladle. Scooping some into her bowl, a small smile crept onto her face as the smell filled the air. Satisfied with the amount, Rose returned to the table, only to hear a knock on the door.

Thinking it was the Boy Scout troop whom she’d seen earlier, she rose, grabbed her box of metal, and opened the door. There stood a soldier, his pacific gray eyes twinkling as he stood at attention, his body a pillar of unmasked strength, chiseled face graced by a smile. His slicked back hair gleamed in the fading afternoon sun. The box of metal crashed with a loud clutter as his luggage also fell with an echoing thud. Rose leapt into his waiting embrace.

“James.” His name on her lips painted a picture of a thousand pent up emotions.

“I’m home.” He whispered a deep soothing baritone. For indeed he was, her beloved had returned. Just in time for Christmas.