The trickster and his 99 days Part 8

 The Funeral Song


 

The tides have changed. The winds are blowing in opposite direction and Junior is being pulled into a whirlwind. The grounds are about to give beneath him. There’s going to be a landslide. And of all the elements being conjured none is in his power to control.

Junior had another dream and in it God said to him… it is time to go back home. So Junior said to his wives; “Rumors are going around that your father is plotting against me. You both know how he has cheated me over and over all these years and ten times he has changed my wages. In spite of it all God has blessed me and has made me very wealthy. God has avenged me by making me wealthier than him. Now God is leading me back to my father’s house.”

Junior had the support of his wives, Leila and Ruby. They were his comrades. They were willing to go with him, even to the ends of the earth.

Twenty long years have come and gone and the young lad who took off from home has grown to become a man. Married to two women, blessed with eleven lads and a girl. It was more than he could ask for. Much more than he bargained for. In spite of his cunningness, his life has managed to travel down a winding road and half the time even though he wanted so much to be in control he couldn’t boast that he had done it all by himself.

He has watched with his eyes how his life has turned out and how that the choices he had made had spewed a handful of outcomes. He also could not deny that in the midst of it all, he really hadn’t been alone. Even when he too was tricked and swindled. Even when he was treated badly by his uncle and father-in-law. He felt the promises of God accompany him to ease off the burden and repercussion of his choices.

Junior is somewhat sober; a strong conviction floods his heart. “He promised he would be with me. He didn’t fail.” Now he must head back home. He should be glad. He should be happy. He has wealth and a large prosperous family. Homecoming should be joyous!

Instead Junior’s heart is troubled by the stirring of a sleeping giant. He must return to his aged father and wounded brother. He must face his demons. He must face the music. How could he look it all again in the face? How does one move to the tone of music that sounds like ones funeral dirge?

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