Ghosts From The Past

Chapter 1

You strolled down the Latvian streets searching the market for a special treat you could purchase for your son. He was at school, but, since he had a big test today, you thought you'd surprise him with something special he could have with dinner. You gazed out across all of the vendors tables before your eyes finally settled on his favorite treat. You walked over to the vendor, made your purchase, and started on your way back home, your arms weighed down with all of your purchases. You were scared that the paper bags you had them in might rip, so you quickened your pace a little more.

As you walked home, you admired the architecture of the town. This area which once seemed so harsh and foreboding had since become a place of refuge for you and your son. Since tragedy drove you to having to find a new place to reside, it had initially been hard to settle down. It felt as though everyone was against the two of you since you moved to the town under such strange circumstances. However, once the locals determined that the two of you had no ill intentions towards anyone in the town, you were accepted, and it had been that way for 7 years.

Since your son was only 5 when the two of you came to Latvia, this new life was practically all he had known. He has many friends at school, and you always thought that must be because he inherited his father's charm.

You felt the corners of your eyes twinge a little at the thought of his father. You'd been without him for 7 years, and, after the tragedy that struck your country, he was assumed to be dead. You rarely let yourself think about your past at all, let alone your husband.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts and refocused your attention on your surroundings. You were nearing your home, and you looked across the street to see your son's school. You weren't sure where his classroom was within it (as your sense of direction inside of buildings was non-existent), but you always hoped that he might see you as you were walking past.

Though your son had just turned 12, he was still quite clingy. Though he didn't show it when he was around his school friends, at home, Carl was a very affectionate child. I think he knew deep down that it was important for you to feel affection, especially since he became the man of the house at such a young age. You smiled to yourself at the thought of one of your favorite memories from when the two of you had first moved to Latvia.

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It had been a chilly day, and you and Carl were inside the house. The furnace had stopped working, so you were kneeling, trying to fix it. This was proving to be a more difficult task than you had expected. Prior to the tragedy, you had never had to do anything like this. Considering your husband's status in your home country, there had always been someone else around to do the hard work. All of a sudden, Carl, who had been taking a nap, was standing beside you and inspecting your work.

"Mama, das is mein job." He gently tried to push you away from the furnace, but you looked down at him with a puzzled expression on your face.

"Mein kleiner soldat, Was meinst du damit, es ist dein job? Dein Job ist es, mein Sohn zu sein. Mein kleiner Soldat hält mich vor Schaden." (My little soldier, what do you mean it's your job? Your job is to be my son. My little soldier keeping me from harm.) He looked up at you with very solemn eyes.

"Ich bin der Mann des Hauses. Ich werde es für Sie reparieren." (I am the man of the house. I will fix it for you.) You were taken aback as you weren't sure where he had heard that phrase. You couldn't recall your husband ever saying it, but maybe he had.

Carl tried to reach out and take the tools you were holding. You handed him a large wrench, only for him to start to not be able to lift it off of the ground. You laughed at his attempt, and you took it back from him.