The final breath of home
591 Words
The air in the village was always coolest just before dawn, smelling of damp earth and the charcoal smoke from neighbor’s breakfast fires. But for Ekim, the air felt thin, as if the oxygen was being sucked out of the valley by the approaching headlights of the agency van.
Inside the small house, the packing was finished. A single, battered suitcase sat by the door, held together by a frayed nylon rope. It contained everything she was allowed to take: two changes of clothes, a photo of her late father, and a small wooden bird Josh had carved for her.
Alice stood by the stove, her back to the room, stirring a pot of porridge that no one intended to eat. Her shoulders were rigid, a silent wall of grief.
"I put the ginger tea in your flask," Alice said, her voice sounding brittle, like dry leaves. "For the plane. They say the air up there makes you cough."
"Thanks, Ma," Ekim whispered. She turned to the mattress where the children were waking up, their eyes bleary and confused by the early hour.
Racy was already awake, sitting cross-legged and holding Asah in her lap. The toddler was fussy, sensing the frantic energy in the room. He reached out, his small fingers grasping at Ekim’s blouse.
"Mama? Going?" Asah asked, his voice high and innocent.
The sound pierced Ekim deeper than any blade. She knelt on the dirt floor, pulling him into her arms and burying her face in the crook of his neck. He smelled of soap and sleep. "Mama has to go on a big airplane, Asah. To the place with the sand. But I’ll be in the phone, remember? I’ll see you every night."
"No phone. Stay," Asah whimpered, fat tears beginning to roll down his cheeks.
Shaddie and Josh stood awkwardly by the door. Josh, the eldest brother, looked at his feet, his jaw tight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of paper—it was a drawing of a big, sturdy brick house with a red roof.
"For when you come back, Ate," Josh said, his voice cracking. "I’ll help build it. I promise."
"I know you will," Ekim said, taking the drawing and tucking it into her bodice, right against her heart.
The sound of a horn blared twice from the road—sharp, impatient, and foreign. The agency van had arrived.
The next few minutes were a blur of cold reality. Alice finally turned around, her face a mask of tears as she threw her arms around Ekim. "Don't let them change you," her mother sobbed into her shoulder. "Remember who you are. Remember you have a home to come back to."
Ekim pulled away, her heart feeling like it was being physically torn from her chest. She picked up her suitcase, the weight of it a reminder of the two years of silence ahead. She didn't look back as she stepped over the threshold.
As she climbed into the back of the white van, she saw her family standing in the doorway—a small, fragile silhouette against the rising sun. Asah was screaming now, his small arms reaching out, held back by Racy.
The van pulled away, kicking up a cloud of red dust that swallowed the house, the village, and the only life Ekim had ever known. She sat on the hard bench, her hand over the drawing in her pocket, watching her world disappear through the rear window.
The "ghost" had officially left the living.
- Writer
