HOMECOMING

"A house is made of walls and beams

A home is built with love"

It was spring, a time for renewal. The grass was beginning to grow again, and spring plants were poking their heads through the blackened earth seeking out the warm sunlight. Clumps of yellows, oranges and reds burst forth adorning the hedgerows and grass verges, their colours shining in the light eager to greet the world.

After three years of fighting in the civil war, Cole was on his way home. The war had been bloody and hard fought by both sides. He had seen many friends lose their lives - friends who would never see their homes again. Cole had been lucky, surviving many bloody battles without a scratch.

Slowing Jack to a trot, Cole took in his surroundings. Nature was renewing itself with a rich greenness returning to the valley. To one side of the road, the river was a clear blue colour where it had once flowed red with the blood of fallen soldiers. Scars of battle were still evident, though, with the once proud homes of the rich lying in ruins burned to the ground by opposing forces.

Just as the land was renewing itself with the arrival of spring so the people of the southern states were slowly restoring their lives. In the blackened ruins, Cole could see signs of life where land owner and ex-slave worked side by side to rebuild their shattered homes and lives.

Jack shook his head from side to side, blowing out a long sigh, as if he sensed that his home was close. Cole grinned as he patted Jack's head. "Easy boy," he murmured fondly. "Nearly home." He grinned again. Home was only five miles away.

Bringing Jack to a halt, Cole slid out of the saddle. Slipping down the bank, he led Jack to the water's edge. Jack lowered his head into the water lapping greedily at the cool water. Taking off his hat, Cole leaned forward scooping some of the river water into his hands. He splashed it over his face trying to wash away some of the grime. As the water settled, Cole could see his reflection mirrored in the clear water. His face, no longer boyish, was tanned and he noted a few more lines - war had aged him, made him grow up. He was no longer the brash 19 year old boy, who had marched away to war head filled with romantic ideals. But he recognised the lopsided grin and the sparkling green eyes that stared back at him. His blonde hair was longer and unkempt, and blonde stubble peppered his once smooth face. Cole chuckled to himself thinking that even his mother wouldn't recognise him.

Taking a deep breath, Cole ducked his head under the water. He scrubbed at his hair and face in an effort to wash away the grime of the battlefield. Shaking his head as he emerged from the water, Cole smoothed his hair down as neatly as he could. He looked down at his tatty appearance, deciding there was nothing he could do about the filthy state of his once proud uniform. It hung loose on him; food had been a premium and many days had been spent going without.

Brushing idly at the dust on his uniform, Cole settled his hat back on his head. Retrieving Jack's reins, he led the horse back up the bank. Checking that his pack was still secure on the back of his saddle, Cole put his foot in the stirrup swinging himself astride Jack in one smooth movement. With a small flick of his wrist, he turned Jack's head forwards urging the horse onwards with a squeeze of his legs.

An hour later, Cole brought Jack to a halt once again. Leaping from the horse, Cole moved forward to get a better view. They were standing on top of a green hill looking down into a small valley. Smoke rose from the chimney of the small house nestled between the trees. The sounds of his mother's geese and chickens rose into the air, and he could hear Sam, his father's hound, barking somewhere in the distance. Glancing to the left, Cole watched as his father worked in the small field; walking behind two black horses he guided his plough up and down. Tears sprung to his eyes as he turned back towards the house - his mother was on the front porch concentrating as she pounded at her butter churn.

Cole wiped at his tears with a dirty sleeve - his home was just as if he had never left, and he offered up a prayer in thanks. He gazed down at his home, drinking in the sight he had dreamed of for three years.

Jack nudged Cole with his nose, snorting with impatience. "We're going," Cole smiled. "We're going," he pulled Jack behind him as he ran down the hill towards his parents.

His mother saw him first - dropping what she was doing, she ran down the wooden steps of the house shouting to her husband as she rushed towards Cole, her long skirts drawn up and clutched in her hands. His father looked up from his work- deserting the plough and the horses, he too rushed towards Cole.

Leaving Jack to nibble at the lush grass, Cole leapt over the small picket fence. Removing his hat as he reached his mother, Cole gathered her up in his arms swinging her round and round as she laughed and cried at the same time repeating his name over and over.

Breathless his father reached them. Smiling at his father, Cole placed his mother gently on the ground. His father smiled back as he opened his arms. Cole walked into the loving embrace.

He was home.........

THE END