Cornerstone
The gate was open, the sign read "Cornerstone Estate"; the morning sun brightened the path that led towards the house ... elm trees stood like soldiers — standing as to attention ... at either-side. The house looked just as it had done for many years passed; the moss covered tiled roof, the chimneys ... freeing smoke from the kitchen fireplaces — mixing it with the low clouds. Behind the stone fence — hiding the gardeners' shed; fruit trees (bent with their golden treasures.) Your eyes are drawn to the red brick walls of the house, and to the white stone arches of the windows and doors ... how many times have the windows been counted by those who have come upon this house for the first time, or those for the last?
'Is that you miss Jane?' a familiar voice (not heard for a long time,) the words are thrown from behind the bed of roses, and then followed by the keeper of the question.
'How many years have I not seen that face and glanced eyes upon such a young body ... your father will be pleased.' These were the words that followed. Old Jack took my suitcase.
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No absence (long or short,) do I know or have experienced the sensation of returning to a place of birth. Today I have leant what it is like to come back to Cornerstone; more than when a child (playing with siblings and cousins alike ... after a long adventure, or staying overnight at a friends — without permission. To be scolded for (what to a young child, nothing more than forgetfulness.) To be looked upon by cold and gloomy eyes of a parent; thought to be ungrateful and selfish — to be sent to ones room; without supper ... and later, to hear from a lonely bed — your brother playing.
But now to have kinds words provided with the knowledge that my father will be pleased — evaporate any fear a returning child has.
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An unfamiliar women's voice — that of my step-mothers (I was later to learn,) brought old Jack to a halt, placing my case onto the step ... he stood aside.
'And who do we have here? Were her words. They were spoken with a foreign dialect ... her embrace squeezed the breath from my chest, my legs left the ground, I was swung around, I was almost deafened when she screamed. 'Come see who is here.'
The meal that night was better than any experienced on many a Sunday after church — fresh vegetables, sweet potatoes, bright yellow corn, and only the best cut of lamb. As the returning child (although now an adult,) my father had me sitting at the head of the table. He sat to my right, my new mother to his left, my uncle, John and his wife to her side. To my left, three little children (sitting like angles,) Lizzie five; Anne four; and in her high-chair ... Sophie, in her second year.
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What it is to come back to Cornerstone, to enjoy a meal (with family,) around a table of abundance; before a good fire; being able to be as one again — all of this ... the reason for my return ... to a house like a magnet, drawing its little metal wanderers back into its fold. Its strength to strong to resist, yet at any given point will cast one away without feeling - but full of dishonest hurt and repentance for having sent loved ones away, only for reasons of necessity and further education.
'Will you walk with me?' Asked William.
'I will walk so fast that even you will not overtake me - even if you try.' Was my reply to my brother. Little Lizzie was half wild with delight when she was asked to attend our freedom. My step-mother addressed the young child with a no. Said with a friendly smile - although still damaging the interest of the child. Anne said nothing; Sophie just smiled - father bid us goodbye.
All was very pleasant, with much happiness. There is nothing greater than being loved by your fellow-creatures, and the feeling that your presence is an addition to others comfort. William took my hand (in a brotherly way - not as a lover would,) I was surprised, when he had us stop and sit - on a bench near by ______
'Are you please to be home Felicity?' He asked, his eyes turned towards me, his hands busy rotating a twig. 'I'm happy you are,' he continued; 'we have all missed you.'
'Shall we run down into the water,?' He asked ... now to he feet. 'Let us enjoy this brilliant summers morning.' He said ... taking my arm. He succeeded in tempting my departure from the garden bench. The slop was gentle, the grass was dry ... once at the waters edge our race was won. With our breath exhausted, we sat with our feet (having removed our foot wear,) dangling in the water.
A fresh and fragrant breeze brought the perfume of lavender. Nature without the help of man; can in its own way be rewarding to those when they are happy. A begging rabbit with her whole family — of seven ... looking pale and ragged objects all— were bobbing up the walk. Happy as I was I gave them all the bread I happened to have on my person — some three or four slices (you my ask why I had such bread available, I will tell you only that the sentence matched the narrative.) The rooks, tits, and the blue birds sang. Here I will advise — nothing was so merry or so full of harmony as my own rejoicing heart ... when from a boat upon the water produced the sole of my childhood lover.
'Felicity.' My name, as it was shouted out -filled the valley. Every creature turned their head (appeared to me now to examine the owner of this name.)
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The many years between leaving and returning have encouraged growth in both our bodies ... he stands taller; with man width shoulders and a chest of armour. His arms thick as they are broad - his legs as straight and strong as ships-masts: above this torso, a long shapely neck ... supporting a large round face, in-closing two fill dark brown eyes, a nose of strength - and lips to kiss ... and they did.
The hours passed without counting. Time passed in drink — Felicity lost consciousness and woke again (the grass under her wet,) awake (not from a true sleep ... but illusion of bless - naked, disheveled, confused and disoriented ...
Ah! ah, such is love.