The Backpacker's Road - Oldie
"Hello, Ladies!"
From our table, our caretaker, the administrator herself of the Home for the Aged, came to greet us as my friends and I joined together in the same table to chat and play cards.
There with me were my twin friends from a beautiful family story in Ika of My Heart.
(To read: Tap the Ika of My Heart link to the story).
Joining us too, our kidnap victim friend from her story in Survived.
(To read: Tap the Survived link to the story).
Our taxi daughter friend too was present, always happy and proud of her story about her father's story in Watched.
(To read: Tap the Watched link to the story).
And our journalist friend, another proud daughter of her father, from her story in Survived 2.
(To read: Tap the Survived 2 link to the story).
"Hello, daughter!"
We all greeted her at the same time then cracked ourselves into laughter. One by one we choked with our saliva and coughed, but we kept on laughing at our "oldie" status.
We were all in our seventy's of age. By God's mercy, we aged together and were still alive! One thing we were all thankful for.
All around us were other oldies in their groups of friends and at their own tables. We were all friends actually, but we just have a closer group of friends.
Some younger ones were dancing tango and others were listening to music in another room. Some were watching movies in the theater room.
My friends and I always preferred to be in the game room. We liked to lose ourselves in the playing cards for adults to enhance our memories, if not to recover it. Others swim themselves between mahjong blocks. Yes, I have friends who like swimming! Ha! Ha!
We called our daughter, administrator and caretaker as we simply could not remember her name at all.
"Well Ladies, your bible preacher has just arrived."
Then we looked back at her and we saw first her younger brother who ran the Home with her. Another man came from behind him.
"Luke!"
Everyone shouted except me. I was shocked. How could they recognize him and I failed?
My friends saw my face and laughed with each other.
"This is our surprise to you."
Our friend, the taxi driver's daughter, told me.
"It has been a week since we were hearing from him in the other room when you got sick."
One of the twins added.
"He would not want you to know. He wanted to see your reaction himself. He has changed since he left the jail. He has already told us his story. Now it is your turn to hear it."
Our reporter friend added more.
Luke was very old but still looked strong. He came closer to our table and from across he looked straight at me.
"How are you?"
I could not respond.
Then all my friends stood up and left the table for us. Luke seated himself on a chair facing me.
"How did you get here?"
Luke placed his bible book on top of the table, clasped his hand together and smiled at me.
Strange to me, I did not feel anything. Just dumbness. I could not believe to see him again after all the years.
"I was doing my preaching ministry on a stage one day and that woman administrator you appointed to handle your business and you call daughter came to approach me."
I sighed as I came to understand.
"After hearing my story, she approached me and invited me to come over. She told me that she might have known the people I was mentioning in my ministry. And she was right."
Our attention was interrupted as one by one all the caretakers were calling the oldies to come to the Home's Chapel, our small church inside the Home.
"You were sick when I first came. I was afraid of what seeing me could mean to you, so I asked them not to say anything until you have recovered and I, myself, will tell you my story.
I started to feel better as I felt relaxed, feeling sure that nothing I should fear about him. But then, my adopted daughter and Home administrator came to us.
"Come on Mommy, let us start."
She came with her brother, my adopted son too.
"Let's go Mr. Luke."
Both of them came to help us to get up and walk our way to the chapel.
At the church, he preached and at the same time mentioned his life story. He talked about how he came to know Jesus through His words and how he was changed.
After he finished his preaching, I needed not ask for him to tell me his story. He was a witness himself of God's forgiveness, mercy and salvation.
He came to me.
"Do you need more to know?"
He asked.
"No."
I smiled and waved goodbye as his driver came to pick him up outside the Home.
Everyone went back to what they were doing before the preaching and mass by the church's priest.
I joined my children in bading farewell to both preacher and priest by the Home's main door.
We were actually outside the Home where in front lies a little garden with planted flowers of tulips and roses.
I was getting tired of standing there outside the Home though the beautiful sunny sky was giving me strength through its soft warmth on my skin.
Looking up at the sky again, I saw the same light blue sky and dancing white clouds I have always enjoyed. They gave me something I could not explain that made my whole being feel like wrapped by that same warm blanket again. I closed my eyes and felt like a Newborn baby again.
This time I did not see a dove. I saw the clouds, that same door formed white clouds again. It was not half opened, but wide opened. Then that bright shining star from the inside came near the door.
I smiled with happiness.
"I am ready."
I whispered to myself. Then I fainted.
I wondered what happened next.
My reporter/journalist friend's face was the next thing I saw.
"Well then, backpacker, I have your story completed."
Another face came in before my eyes.
"But why do you call it Backpacker's Road?"
It was another friend who asked me.
I laughed before I gave my answer and am amused about my light feelings of myself. I felt myself as if I was a wind.
"Because each stage of my life story was written in a different notebook inside my bag, my backpack. Inside my bag was a bible which I used as my life's guide as soon as I got hold of it. It was since I was rescued from my stepfather's hand and every time I was rescued from the traps of hell. I believe in my Saviour. I just believe."
It was what I responded.
"Well then my friend, you'll get your story title."
Then someone from somewhere interrupted us as followed by two more.
"But how can you publish that story? We are all now but spirits roaming around the Home for the Aged's garden."
I realized it was true as I remembered being the last one to join my five long time friends in their Home for the Spirits Club in the Home's garden.
We all laughed and our sound came like a refreshing strong wind that passed the garden of the Home.
All we got? A smile from the closed eyes of all those who were left behind.
End of story.
(c) bbayonito20/bethbciar
