1r de Batxillerat “The unwanted draft” Cristina Castany i Fàbregas

202 “The unwanted draft”

Cristina Castany i Fàbregas / 1r de Batxillerat

LLENGUA ANGLESA_3RPREMI

Here, she reaches for my hand. Stares me right in the eye, kisses my cheek, and promises everything will be okay. I nod in false agreement. Deep down I feel this sinking feeling, a strong compression against my chest, the lack of air keeping me from thinking straight. I take a moment to think about what to do or say next. I hug her. She replies by hugging me back, I can feel her tears slipping down my uniform, she tries hiding her struggle by deliberately rubbing her eyes against my shoulder. I pretend not to notice, for her sake and mine. We hear a loud steady knock, not two, not three, one. Seconds later it repeats itself. We cannot seem to accept that my time to go has arrived. I slowly push her away avoiding eye contact, I can sense it pains her, but I know she is not ready to stand watching me go. She approaches the door and lets them in. I properly salute them. Reality strikes as lighting does a tree. I look back at her and the kids, with a sight I bear. I grab the door, preparing myself for whatever is awaiting.

A couple of months in, I do not have any more strength to spare nor hope to go off. Only God knows the only thing keeping me sane is the memories of those who once loved me.

A flashing light distracts me from my thoughts. I quickly realize what that light symbolizes. Careful! I scream, I watch the barricade fall onto their heads, I lose it. The last bit of hope holding me together dissipates while I watch the men who I owe my life to get buried under piles of dust. Despair invades every inch of my being, I abruptly hit the ground. Once I gather the strength to stand back up I try running towards the fallen barricade seeking to find some of my fellow men alive. A sudden pull at my arm keeps me from doing so. I look back to see one of my comrades, I can barely recognize him, mud, blood, and tears cover his fearful expression. Promptly, the astonishing sound of an explosion takes us both to the ground, the rest, I can’t remember.

Here, she reaches for my hand. I missed the warmth of home, missed the company of those I love, missed the sight of my home country.

Carefully, she caresses my skin. I hear loud steps running towards us, I can’t help but lose it. At the top of my lungs, I scream. I can hear my wife’s uneasy but tranquil voice telling me everything’s just in my head. I open my eyes to see my kids’ faces staring right at me frightened and perplexed at my behavior, what am I? What is it I have become? A tear falls down my face as I look away from them. It doesn’t take long for my eldest to hug me as she whispers in my ear, “we are glad you’re back dad”. Her words awaken the dreams I used to have about my homecoming. I know I am up for another battle, an even harder and longer one, but I am ready to face the struggle that will bring my head and health back to what they used to be.

You know what they say, “there’s a piece of war that never seems to abandon you”, and I must learn to live with it.