That Longing for Home (G) 1/1
by M-A
Ray, I read somewhere that the end of all things is the beginning of something new. Everything ended--and began--with a small phrase uttered on a frozen lake. You asked me if I was all right and I lied and said yes. But the truth came out with a sigh:
"I'm homesick."
You didn't understand, but I couldn't blame you for this. You did not know the longing a man could have for his home.
My words were lost in a fantastic investigation where the past melded with the present and forged the future.
I learned of how my mother died. It had been a long time since I have felt that pain in my chest, a pain brought on by betrayal. A pain like I felt a hundred years ago during the darkest winter of my existence. Dad lied to me to protect me, but the truth can not stay hidden for ever.
Mum... my beautiful, sweet mum with hair like copper!
It's for her we left Chicago for the Northwest Territories. For my home. For this enchanted land nestled in whiteness.
You asked me then why I grinned. For you, we were nowhere, far from anything you found familiar. But me... I had found my home.
I joyously presented you to my land. We hailed the tops of the great pines lost in the azure greatness of the sky. Our laughter was the echo of the loon's troubling cry in spring. Everywhere in this vast white desert, I sang her beauty. Oh, Ray, my longing for home had become so much to bear that this was too much. Too much beauty and calm and joyous silences. At night, when you fell asleep by the fire, I allowed myself to cry at my happiness to be back.
Muldoon did not escape us. It was at the bottom of an abandoned mine that I found mum again, and lost her and dad for ever. All that I have left are memories and this land I adore.
Meg and I spoke of Toronto. She finally understood that it is here I must remain. We allowed ourselves one last kiss; it was full of tenderness, but also of regrets. Meg is like you, Ray, she is made for the city. It is to the howling of the wolves and Diefenbaker that we bid one another farewell.
Sometimes, Ray, the longing a man has for his home is stronger than the longing he could have for a woman.
Nothing stayed the same after the investigation. The other Ray, lost and found in the same breath, left Chicago's cold for Florida's sun, and, at the same time, he left my life. He could not take part in my new existence here.
You surprised me, Ray, with your enthusiasm for this land and this strange new way of life. We left with Diefenbaker in search of the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort sea. And what an adventure it was! Ray, I laughed like a boy for the first time in thirty years!
The three years of our adventure were the best my life. But we know the old adage. All good things must come to an end. You finally understood the longing a man can feel for his home.
This summer night, I lie on a bed of moss by a river swollen with winter's melted snow. Sometimes, in my dreams, I think of Chicago, and of all that left I left without regret. I will never long for Chicago. But I will long for you, Ray, and the other Ray, and all my other friends. My three years of exile for not in vain.
At night, watching the stars, I think of Meg and sometimes Victoria. When I visit my little sister, sweet Maggie, we speak of loves loss in the abyss of disillusion. We Frasers, we were born to be alone.
Diefenbaker is still by my side, loyal since that day near Prince Rupert where our souls became one. Sometimes, when he cries to the moon, I imagine that he is longing for Chicago. I embrace this irony.
Ray, all good things come to an end to give something else a chance to begin.
I longed for home. For her azure skies. For her seas carved in granite. For her snows so cold and sweet. I longed for her and returned. I hope that our adventure allowed you to understand why I'm here and you're in Chicago.
Why I gave up human companionship for the solitude of the land. The laughter of a friend for the silence of the tundra.
I can't explain the longing a man can have for his home. All I know is that I no longer feel it.
My longing was lost in the sweet torment of the storm. In the glacial waters of the rivers. I found again a serenity I thought was lost for ever.
I'm saddened to have to admit this, Ray, but I owe you the truth. If I could live my life over, I would never have left this place. Ray, I would have forsaken all the friendships I made in Chicago if it meant never having to experience the agony of longing for my home.
It is an agony more profound than any bullet or a blade or broken heart. To long for one's home is to have a shattered soul.
You know all this, Ray. I'm alone here, and you have returned home. You, too, have felt a longing for home.
Old man that I am today, I think of the past because the future has forsaken me. All of a sudden, I am back on a frozen lake surrounded by sky scrapers. You ask me if everything's all right. This time, I can't hide the truth:
"I'm homesick."
This time, you smile because you understand. Understand my love for my country and understand what it is to leave one's home for the unknown.
Time unfolds quickly before us. Our adventure is already three years old. We are on a frozen lake surrounded by pines. It is with a sigh that you admit the truth.
"I'm homesick."
Trips and exiles have but one goal. I discovered it in the paved streets of Chicago. Ray Kowalski discovered it in the desert of Canada's great north.
Only at home can we find peace.
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