Summer Rain
“I will be right back” he said as soon as we stopped at the railroad crossing. Seeing my puzzled look, he added “The train will take a while to pass”. He run towards the convenience store, jumping over puddles from rain that was pouring since the day before. "Only in Russia" I thought…
It’s been over ten years since I left. Why did I wait so long to come back? It was a different lifetime, separate life, another universe. It started with my first memories, as I was lifted up by my dad and held against the glass door to see my mom waiving at us - my baby sister had been just born. Four of us, together, forever. The whole life was ahead of me. Or at least I thought so. I was two and a half. Ironically, it ended with a glass door as well. That time it was between me and my dad. The palm of his right hand was pressed high against the terminal’s glass door, and his left fist was touching his cheekbone. His lips whispered “I love you”. I wanted to scream that I love him too, I wanted run back, break that glass door, hug him and never leave. Instead, I turn around and walked fast carrying my suitcases and trying not to look back. I was fifteen.
The car door opened and he jumped in with a fresh pack of smokes. We sat quietly, watching the train pass by, having a nicotine breakfast and listening to the rain. “Finally” he said and pressed the gas until it reached 160km/h. I took a deep puff and held my breath. My head span and my body felt like a soft puffy cloud… The sudden bright light hurt my eyes. The truck was going in the opposite direction and probably with the same speed. It didn’t seem that there was enough room for both of us.
Ten fucken years and I’m finally here. I made it. I came back from what I run away from. I faced all the fears, I said all the things that I’ve been holding on, and I fixed the burned bridges that I thought were irreparable. If this was it, if this road, this forest and this truck was the last thing I’d see, then this was enough.
They say the second before you die your entire life flashes in front of you. It didn’t – I thought it was a good sign. The time seemed to slow down instead. I slowly looked at my still burning cigarette thinking I need another puff, I looked at him trying to keep the steering wheel steady while the car was drifted onto the gravel shoulder of the road, I looked at the truck that was barely moving by…It seemed that at this second I can accomplish everything that I had never had time to do. The time did not exist. The right side tires drifted straight along the shoulder until we slowed down and stopped. “That woke me up” he said. I took a puff, “You should fix your seat belts, they might be useful someday". "Only in Canada" he said and pressed the gas.
It’s been over ten years since I left. Why did I wait so long to come back? It was a different lifetime, separate life, another universe. It started with my first memories, as I was lifted up by my dad and held against the glass door to see my mom waiving at us - my baby sister had been just born. Four of us, together, forever. The whole life was ahead of me. Or at least I thought so. I was two and a half. Ironically, it ended with a glass door as well. That time it was between me and my dad. The palm of his right hand was pressed high against the terminal’s glass door, and his left fist was touching his cheekbone. His lips whispered “I love you”. I wanted to scream that I love him too, I wanted run back, break that glass door, hug him and never leave. Instead, I turn around and walked fast carrying my suitcases and trying not to look back. I was fifteen.
The car door opened and he jumped in with a fresh pack of smokes. We sat quietly, watching the train pass by, having a nicotine breakfast and listening to the rain. “Finally” he said and pressed the gas until it reached 160km/h. I took a deep puff and held my breath. My head span and my body felt like a soft puffy cloud… The sudden bright light hurt my eyes. The truck was going in the opposite direction and probably with the same speed. It didn’t seem that there was enough room for both of us.
Ten fucken years and I’m finally here. I made it. I came back from what I run away from. I faced all the fears, I said all the things that I’ve been holding on, and I fixed the burned bridges that I thought were irreparable. If this was it, if this road, this forest and this truck was the last thing I’d see, then this was enough.
They say the second before you die your entire life flashes in front of you. It didn’t – I thought it was a good sign. The time seemed to slow down instead. I slowly looked at my still burning cigarette thinking I need another puff, I looked at him trying to keep the steering wheel steady while the car was drifted onto the gravel shoulder of the road, I looked at the truck that was barely moving by…It seemed that at this second I can accomplish everything that I had never had time to do. The time did not exist. The right side tires drifted straight along the shoulder until we slowed down and stopped. “That woke me up” he said. I took a puff, “You should fix your seat belts, they might be useful someday". "Only in Canada" he said and pressed the gas.
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