This Road
by
Chris Narbone
I know this road. On a clear night, this road has the best view of the moon and stars. A full moon can sit perched like a pearl against a velvet backdrop. The stars can shine as if they were flashes from a camera. I’ve also learned to appreciate this road in other ways. It gives me time to think. I think about my life up to this point. I’ve walked this road since I was a boy, and relish the two and half mile stretch as if visiting an old friend. I walked this road on my first day of school. I walked this road with my golden retriever, Butch, a week my parents brought him home from the pound. I walked this road the day I left for the Army. I walked this road the day first day I met my wife. I walked this road when I laid my parents to rest. I walked this road the day my daughter was born. This road knows me, just as well as I know it.
For two and a half miles, this road winds like a snake slithering around a rock. It’s the type of road that keeps you guessing around every bend even when you’ve walked it hundreds of times. I think that’s why I keep walking it every night. It’s so familiar, but there are still a few surprises every night I walk it. Whether it’s a sound I’ve never heard before, or the way the moon looks through a certain oak tree. I’m still amazed what this road gives me every time my foot leaves my driveway and lands on the gravel. Walking on this road feels like I’m transported to another time and place. Some nights I don’t even want to leave this road. My connection to it is so strong that I just wander up and down the two and half miles aimlessly taking in every smell, sound, and scene.
Tonight, this road is different. I’ve spent many hours trying to find my way home. I’m embarrassed to point that out; even though I’ve lived in this area my whole life -- I find myself lost. Maybe it was the way the moon slid behind a laced curtain of clouds this evening that grabbed my attention. I could watch it all night, but know that home is where I need to be. A black, iron candle lantern has guided me every stretch of this road. Like this road, my lantern is also my companion.
For the last hour, I’ve been walking up and down this road. Lantern in hand, I survey every foot looking for my driveway. I can’t even find my mailbox. I built it myself and placed it at the end of my driveway. It’s large enough to see a half mile down the road either way. I even painted it red so that I wouldn’t drive past it during the day, but at night the mailbox might as well be any color.
My journey tonight is an odd one. I grew up here my whole life, yet I can’t recall where my house is on this stretch of gravel. Sometimes, I damn the road for taking me away from my wife and daughter. They’re probably worried sick about me, but I’ll be home soon. I know I’m close.
I started this evening walking with my wife. The night air was crisp; perfect for an autumn evening. During the day, this road has some of the prettiest colored leaves in the whole county. Rusty oranges, fruitful reds, and earthy browns bring this road to life. Some are in the trees, others cover parts of this road. Just like most nights, we started down past Meyer’s lake, and then past a stretch of cornfields that are ready for harvest. The stars weren’t out as much tonight so my wife suggested I carry the lantern just in case certain parts of this road were too dark. We just rounded the second bend when I noticed a car coming up ahead. I told my wife that it was odd to see a car on this road at this time of the night. We’re the only ones that live on this road, and weren’t expecting visitors. Now my wife tends to over react from time to time, and this particular time she was upset about the way this car was coming down this road. I heard the driver shift the car’s engine into high gear as it came over the hill. What really scared my wife was when the car swerved to the left and right and back to the left again. She claimed the driver was drunk. I never saw the car swerve the way my wife claimed, but did feel the car come at us pretty fast. It roared as if it was unleashed from the gates of hell. I never understood why people drive like they were on fire. I’ve always been a conservative driver, and never claimed to have a lead foot. Moreover, the need to speed was ridiculous. Why not just leave early? Although, I do remember when I was seventeen and had my own car. I always wanted to show off for my buddies or the girl I was dating at the time. Now I recall the car coming at us, and my wife jumped into the ditch below the road. For some reason, I didn’t. I think I underestimated the car. Maybe the driver was drunk.
I don’t remember what happened next. I found it strange to wake up in the middle of this road. I felt like I was watching a movie from the middle and not the beginning. It was tough to piece together why I was on this road. Since then, I walk up and down this road looking for home. I even asked a few folks for a ride home. I never hitch hiked before. The words alone sound dangerous and probably are, but I really just want to get home. It’s been awkward though. Folks ask me where I’m heading, and I tell them home. Some are frustrated, others confused. I tell them I live on this road, but can’t remember where. We never get very far, unfortunately. Most drivers get upset when I take a seat in the passenger side. I’ve never considered myself an ugly person, or unsightly by any imagination. Some drivers look so disturbed when they see me. One lady just screamed and howled the moment I sat in her car. Maybe I’m getting too old to understand what people want to see these days. I tell them I want to go home, and it’s when I raise my lantern to their face that they scream at mine. I fear there’s little decency left in this world.
Now, I finally found my home. At the edge of my driveway, the mailbox sits on the other side of the driveway. I swear it was on the right, but tonight it’s on the left. I can see lights are on in the house. My daughter’s doing her homework I imagine, and my wife is probably working on my scarf for the coming winter.
As I approach the front door, I’m trying to figure out how to explain why I’ve been gone so long. I’m hoping that when my wife sees me, she won’t care and just be happy to have me home. I try the door knob several times when I finally have to knock on the door. At first no one answers, so I knock harder. I hear screaming from inside. I’m worried. It sounds like my daughter, but then I hear my wife’s scream. Now, they’re screaming together. Something must be scaring them. I knock harder, and their screams are louder. Can they even hear my knocking? I jiggle the handle again when I hear footsteps finally coming to the door. I shout, “It’s me, daddy.”
Cries of terror and confusion get the best of my wife and daughter. I pound on the door again, and demand that they open up. For some reason, they tell me to go away. Me, go away? Where? This is my home, and they are my family. I take a deep breath and I let them know that I’m finally home. I assure them there’s no need to be afraid anymore.
They finally get control of themselves. I can see the door handle twist. I want to just bust through the front door, but I don’t want to risk running into my wife or daughter. I’ve waited so long; I just want to give them both a big hug and kiss.
The door opens. I raise my lantern to get a good look at them. It’s when I raise my lantern that I see my wife and daughter shriek again. Now, I’m scared too. I’m home but they’re treating me like they’re afraid of me. I don’t want to walk this road anymore I tell them. I want to be at home. Tears fill their eyes as they scream and hold each other. This goes on for another minute before they slam the door in my face. I grab the handle shake it as hard as I can. With each shake, the louder they scream.
I stop to collect my thoughts. I now realize that the two people that answered the door looked like my wife and daughter but are much older. I’m starting to think I went to the wrong house. The landscaping looks different, and the cars in the driveway don’t look like any I’ve ever seen at my house. I can still hear their sobs. I’ve obviously caused them a great deal of distress tonight. I just want to go home. Maybe if I walk down a little further, I’ll find my way home on this road.
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