Empty Hand Revolution

I've Been Expecting You

For a week, Cosmo traveled slowly and in short increments—his progress always in the general direction of home. He’d decided on the destination subconsciously and out of default.

He couldn’t stomach the thought of returning to school or running into Damu. In all likelihood, his old gang considered him dead. He might as well leave it that way. Besides, he had already garnered enough education to qualify for university, if he decided to attend.

Cosmo had to admit, as readily as he had left the village behind, the village had refused to leave him. So it was, the prodigal son returned home. With a body slowly healing and a hopelessly shattered spirit, Cosmo beheld his parents’ hut for the first time in nearly two years.

Having ditched the crutch midway through his travels, Cosmo centered his weight between both feet and did his best to stand tall. He did not want his mother to embrace a broken child. He breathed deeply and rapped on the door.

He waited, then knocked again. Mud had crumbled from around the door without being repaired. Not only was the bamboo exposed, but Cosmo could have slipped rupees through several of the cracks, had he a single coin to his name.

No one answered. Cosmo heard singing from the back. With as little limp as possible, he followed the source of the song—a favorite hymn of his father’s. For the first time, he made a connection between his father’s hymn and the old woman’s humming. The tune wasn’t exactly the same, but similar enough to be a regional variation.

Cosmo stopped several meters short of the garden where his father stooped in labor. Weeds outnumbered the crops. The prodigal tried to clear his throat to greet his father, but he lacked the words.

Suddenly his father straightened. Smiling, yet sad, he looked directly at his youngest son. “Cosmo, I’ve been expecting you.”