a new man...

There was a beginning and now there is a continuation. So this is the next part of the story.

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But it had to stop. Running away was not the answer. Not that running away hadn’t provided a temporary reprise. But the fact remained. Running away was like the mist that hung around after the rain. It merely masked the problem. Solving the problem required John to do the opposite. John had to stop running. The mist enveloped John as he made his way along the wet sidewalk.

John looked back at the three years that he had spent wallowing in depression. Three years that could have been better spent. But the three years spent alone out in the world had not been totally wasted. The three lonely years had indeed toughened John up. Gone were the days where John’s view of the world was veiled by roses laid meticulously on a silver platter borne on the backs of the many attendants that shuffled around him.

The three years had widen his horizons, discoloured his tinted view of life. John knew now that he had been one of the fortunate ones. He was one of the few that grew up with all of his needs taken care of. However, John couldn’t see the bliss that sheltered him in his youth. Then, all John did was lamented how the people around him could never please him.

It didn’t take three years for John to find out his fairytale existence was merely contained within his sprawling estate. No, John realized that he was nobody out in the world without his identity that came with his family name. John had found out shortly an hour into his flight for freedom. But to return then would have reinforced in John the failure that his family thought of him. Moreover, John’s pride could never have shut out the whispers that the domestic help was capable of spreading.

It wasn’t the first time that John had attempted to return. Three years had seen sixteen different attempts. With only John’s own footsteps for company, the silence of the night had proven a conducive environment for reminiscence. The same rain that had accompanied John as he left has welcomed him back as he stepped off the train. Now only the mist remained.

John came to a stop as he came up to the flight of stairs. The familiarity of the steps was comforting. John stood there staring at the knocker. However, he couldn’t bear to bring himself to raise the knocker. It wasn’t that he was having cold feet. John couldn’t wait to enter the house. He had wanted so desperately to get out of the cold. It has been three years and warmth waited for him on the opposite side of the door. He just didn’t want to create a din.

The prodigal son is here. But the return would have to wait till more earthly hours.