When will I be Home?

Sophie stepped off the road and peered into the house. Seeing no one, she was about to knock on the door. A notice on the door threw her off. HERE LIVES A MAN OF NO COURAGE.

It was 1914.

War had broken out in South East Europe. Austria-Hungary, encouraged by Germany was set to punish Its enemies. Men were enlisted in armies to fight the mindless war. Those who stayed back were shamed with such notices. Just weeks into her new country, where she had volunteered to be a nurse, she shed a tear. It seemed to her that the bravado with which she had enlisted to step out of home, as women started helping in the war, was ebbing away. Mostly at nights.

As she looked out of the tiny windowless room through the little shaft, where she could see the autumn sun, she tried not to think about the devastation around her. Getting up in the morning, in a tiny room, she adjusted her uniform. It was about the first time nurses were enlisted and she looked at her lapel and felt proud of the work she was doing. Attending the wounded, she tried not to think of the strange smells, sounds, and wails around her.

“Poisoned gas,” he said, as she tried to gently clean his wounds. “I was in the front and I did not see them unleashing this” he panted finding it difficult to breathe. He was barely a man, 18 years old with a false zealousness for serving the country. She could not bear to see him. The thought of the suddenness of the attack and his panic made her hard to keep down the feeling that was fast rising up- like a tight thread from her gut winding her way to her lungs and finally coming up through her throat. She ran to the bucket of water and splashed it on her, just as her legs gave way.

The red skies of a late setting sun soon turned purple. It would be nightfall soon when her strength would fail her. She kicked aimlessly with the torn shoe she had just found at the camp. “Go pull that shoes off that body and cover your cold toes”, the nurse attending to a soldier with an artillery wound said. She was not ready for this. She was just 18.

She looked down to see the rustle of the autumn leaves falling away. Listlessly she bent down and picked up the biggest leaf. Half green- half orange and dry…they reminded her of the soldiers she was attending to. Holding on to life and yet something drying away at the core.

Deep in her thoughts, Sophie almost crossed her little house which she shared with 5 other volunteers. Looking up she realized the leaf was from the same tree she could see from the window shaft in her room.

Days and weeks passed and her gloom became a dark place she lived in.

The war deepened. Autumn deepened. The tree that so gave her solace was now barren. “How did I miss its cry ..how did I miss its sorrow ?” Sophie sat down with a sigh. It was now 2 months since she had moved to the new land. A sense of emptiness engulfed her. “ Who am I?”- she thought to herself. Desolate and desperate, she looked up at the tree, looking for answers. A branch gently touched her.

Dusting off the sand from her skirt, she adjusted the buckle of her shoe and stood up- gingerly and unsteadily. She hit her head on another branch. Pulling herself straight, she hopped onto the rough rubble road.

Still totally still. Soft wafts of air swirled around her.

Sophie, for the first time, saw that this tree (oh she had named it “Softy” after her kind sister) was a part of a grand lineup. A colossal stately tree, all its branches barren, she saw how strong and tall it was. Caressing the tree next to it, almost comforting it, it tugged at her heart. Eyes move further down to see this merry dance of branches, sharp into the air, touching the sky. The winter fog sets in and brings a softness to the night.

Breathing in the cold comfort, Sophie wipes off her tear with her winter-crinkled little finger.

Tall and strong and bright one day
Ready to shed the other
Comforting in its shade
Touching in its barrenness
Letting go as the seasons change
Embracing the dark and light
Oh to be the mighty one among the woods
For one day I shall be green again

A smile slowly but surely holds Sophie tight. She is home.

Maybe I should call my tree “Hardy” she muses as her steps bounce towards the camp