The Guava Tree
I climbed up a guava tree and bit into a green fruit. It was tangy and refreshing, like a magical potion. I felt a surge of energy and happiness. I was home.
I had been away at the boarding school in Mutwal. It was a big city, full of cars, buses, and noise. It was nothing like my village, Dalugama, where the air was fresh, and the streets were less crowded.
I wouldn’t say I liked the boarding school. I had to wake up early, go to church, attend school, play games, study, pray, and sleep. There was plenty of fun, adventure, and plenty of friends, but no time for family.
I missed my family and Kadayamma, my grandmother. I missed their hugs and smiles. I missed Kadayamma’s stories and coconut water. I missed the games we played in our front yard. I missed the chickens, the pig, and the dog. I missed everything.
Brother Jerome, the caretaker and person in charge of the boarding is kind and caring, but there was one thing he couldn’t fill – the void in my heart. He couldn’t make me stop missing my family.
When I returned from the school holidays, I told my sister about a movie I saw at the cinema. She asked me, “Ayya, what’s it like in the boarding school? How’s the food?”
I didn’t want to talk about the boarding school. I wanted to discuss something else – something exciting and adventurous. So, I told her about James Bond, the gunfights, the gadgets, flying cars, and the bad guys.
I wished to forget the day I left home – the day my father took me to the bus terminal. He pointed to the Mercedes-Benz bus and said, “Let’s sit together.” He wrapped his arms around my mother and my sister and assured us, “We’ll bring him back if he’s too homesick or unhappy, but this is what God wants, and we have to accept it.” He sat next to me and told me everything would be okay if I were a good grandson to Kadayamma.
I also wanted to forget the look on my mother’s face – the mixture of pride, worry, and sadness. But deep down, I knew that despite the adventure and excitement, my heart still longed for the familiar warmth of home.
Subscribe to my stories:- https://djayasi.medium.com/subscribe