I was standing there, loaded down with suitcases and holding my million-dollar family in my hands. And the guy didn’t even get out of the pickup truck to help me. He only opened the door when I got closer, then grabbed the suitcases and tossed everything into the truck bed.
All of a sudden, with one quick grab and those giant hands, he snatched my million-dollar family—the one I’d carried so carefully—and slammed it into the truck bed. I didn’t even have time to warn him that it might break. All that came out of my mouth was:
“Mr. Valdemar…”
“I’m not Valdemar. My name is Valdemir. He was already asleep. All of us were asleep!”
He said it in a rude voice and slammed the bag on top of the other luggage. I hadn’t even gotten a good look at him. I only heard the sound of the figurines crashing into one another and felt my stomach drop. Anger began building inside me when I heard him speak again, irritated:
“Get in the truck already. I have to work tomorrow!”
I wanted to talk back, scream, kick anything I could, but my body simply obeyed and got into the truck.
For an hour and a half, we traveled in horrible silence. The dirt road was dark, and I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the face of that bastard who had broken my million-dollar family!
Then, all of a sudden, the truck stopped in front of a farm gate. I looked at the large sign above it. The headlights lit it up, and I managed to read it.
I knew that sign only from pictures, but it felt like I belonged there. I’d heard so many stories about that farm and about my grandparents, who had given it its name:
“A Place Called Love.”
It was a beautiful name for a farm where my grandparents had lived out their love story. Beautiful stories my father had been so proud to tell me when I was a child.
My eyes lowered, and I saw the farm gate opening. Familiar faces soon appeared. Finally, my father and mother came to welcome me. I got out of the pickup truck and ran into their arms. Meanwhile, the brute kept driving.
I was finally home, in my parents’ arms. Finally safe.
We headed to the farmhouse. Right out front, on the porch, were my suitcases and the bag with the figurines, sitting right on top of them. There wasn’t a sign of that terrible man!
My father picked everything up and began carrying it inside. I helped him, since it was already late and the workers were asleep.
As soon as I arrived, my mother led me upstairs to a neatly prepared bedroom with a pleasant scent of pine mixed with wood and flowers. The room had a bathroom, and she had already drawn a hot bath for me.
She said:
“Go take a bath. I’ll bring you something to eat soon. Then go get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll catch up!”
Before leaving, though, she looked back just before closing the door and said, as if she wanted to pull all the pain out of me:
“Everything’s going to be okay now, all right? Welcome home!”
Those words entered my heart like medicine, like a balm, easing a pain I hadn’t even known existed.