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A Man Goes Home









As the hobo approached the train tracks he was careful to look both ways for the railroad detectives, as he knew that they would want to run him out of the yard.

It was a fairly warm afternoon, and as he noticed the coast was clear, he forced himself to hurry along the cinders and ties to the boxcar that he had spotted with an open door.

Maybe, he thought to himself, this was the one. This was the train that would carry his tired and fragile body back home, back North to Illinois.

He couldn't wait to get back to the little town where he'd grown up. He was sure that while he had been gone a long time, some things still had stayed the same back home.

Like the smell of Jasmine, as you approached just south of town the evening smell of this would permeate the air at this time of year.

He remembered other things too, the lightning bugs dancing all around, the dragonflies buzzing just as the sun would set in the west. And the girl, his childhood first love, how excited he was when he had given her the ring he bought from the machine at the confectionery for a nickel. How he felt when he had his first kiss, butterflies and Butterfinger candy bars, occupied his stomach at that moment he touched her lips.

He somehow knew that the church bells still rang in that little town. He supposed that couples probably still walked hand in hand, while discussing their future plans.

He also knew that though he had been gone a long time, though he was several years older now, and his eyes had seen things unpleasant, things that would remain forever unspoken, he would see things when he got back that would amount to a sight for his sore eyes.

Yes, he couldn't wait. For he had learned to survive a life of the hobo lifestyle. Cold beans and jerky when he could get it had replaced the homemade chicken and dumplings and strawberry pie that he had grown accustomed to back when he was a child.

As he neared the boxcar that would hopefully take him back home, he once again paused his reflections to quick scan for the yard workers and detectives. The last thing he wanted was to get caught, thrown out of the yard at the very least and possibly thrown in jail that is. No he didn't want that to happen so his eyes tried their best to focus, look for movement of bodies from anywhere around. Yet again the coast was clear.

As he paused at the open boxcar to catch his breath, he took the time to reflect once more.

Let's see, what was her name...umm Mary...yes Mary!

It had come to him. Mary Gifford was the girls name that he had thought of earlier.

How could he forget her? After all, she was the one that had taught him to be strong. She had told him that the mind was where it started, that with the power of positive thinking you could do anything.

"What you think about, you bring about" he could still her say to him, so many years ago.

He had kept a little notepad and pencil all these years, and that notepad had all kinds of sayings and cliches written in it. When he would be afraid he would read the one about nothing to be afraid of except fear itself. Boy that one had helped him on several occasions over the years. Yes that was a good one. These writings and his small bible along with prayer and the Grace of God had got him through several hard times.





As he looked at his little pad, he quickly remembered another that he had written there in it "There's no place like home" it read. He thought to himself how true that one was. He thought how he couldn't wait to get back home.





He said a prayer very quickly. "Lord, I come to you once again and ask that you guide me, keep me safe on this long journey. And if it is your will Lord, please take me home. In Jesus name I pray, Amen".

He felt better at that time and as he hoisted himself up into the open door of the boxcar, he spotted movement, just to the other side of the track. Oh no he thought, it's a railroad detective. He hurried to put away his little notepad and bible in his coat pocket and scrambled to shut the door. And then, just before he heard the door slam, he felt the train give a sudden jerk, and he realized that the train was now moving.





It was very dark in this boxcar, and although he had never liked the pitch black of darkness, he wasn't afraid. He had a small penlight flashlight and he felt with the Lord watching over him and the power of his mind he would certainly only have the fear of fear itself to be afraid of.





As he pulled out his penlight and settled in the corner of the boxcar, he once again reflected on home. The church bells, couples, and old folks crowded around the corner on the bench in front of the courthouse.

He thought of dreams he had that had made him leave this little town. He thought of all the different towns and cities he had been in since he left, and how he never intended to be gone so long. How the dollar and the desire to get away and make a good living for himself initially and maybe a family had led him away from home.





Well, that was all water under the bridge now he thought to himself as he pulled out his pad, pencil, and little Bible.

He was going home now, and even though he had been gone many years, maybe Mary would still be in that little town.





The train was now rolling along at a thunderous speed. And as he heard the whistle blowing, he knew they were passing a crossing now.

That whistle blowing, as he listened to it he felt a little lonesome. Funny, almost strange. The same sound that had called him away so many years ago was now screaming out his return...screaming out that he was going home.

He would never leave home again he thought to himself.





As he shined the light around the empty boxcar he notices some stenciled writing on the wall.

WARNING: REFRIGERATED BOXCAR DO NOT STORE ANYTHING REQUIRING OVER 38* DEGREES





What did this mean? He thought it was sort of cool in there but.oh no! Thirty-eight degrees! "Oh no, I will freeze to death" he muttered.

He tried the door. "Oh NoNOOOOOOOOOO!" he yelled.

This door would only open from the outside. He began to get chilled. After the first hour or so he began to run around, trying to get warm.

After tiring he sat down, and started to pray.

"Lord, I've gone and done it now. I've locked myself in this cold boxcar and I will surely freeze to death. Please Lord; get me out of here. Please take me home. I ask of you in Jesus name Lord, please take me home".

As he felt his blood thinning and his body becoming weak, he started to write in his little book.





MaryMary Gifford. If you read this it's surely because I'm dead. I was coming home Mary, and I got locked in this cold boxcar and well. Mary. I'm freezing to death.

If you read this I want you to know a few things. First, Mary I love you and I wish I'd never left our little town and you. I never meant for things to end up the way they did.

I always thought that I'd make my way back to you, back to good Mary. I was finally coming home when this happened. I remembered all the things you said Mary, you know I even wrote some of them down here in my pad. Like when you said "What you think about you bring about" and how "the mind is a powerful thing" and how" you can do anything you set your mind to".

Well Mary, I've set my mind to opening this boxcar door and I just can't get it done Mary.

I've prayed and prayed that God bring me home.

That's all for now...I'm cold

As the train rushed on towards Illinois he heard the whistle blowing, the screeching of the iron wheels on the track. He could tell that he was dying, as he was becoming weaker and weaker by the minute. He knew in his mind that he was freezing to death, and as he lay on the floor he wrote in his pad once again.

"Mary, I'm so sorry. I'm freezing to death, I can feel my body icing, the blood clotting. I'm so weak I can barely write. I'm so very cold. I've asked the Lord over and over to please take me home. Gods will Mary, if it is his will, we will meet again. I Love You Mary!





And then as the train started to slow, and the whistle, once again started to blow. He silently said this prayer. "Lord, please forgive me of my sins. I ask you Lord as I'm slowly freezing to death now Lord, please take me home. In Jesus name I pray. Amen"





As the train came to a stop, in his hometown, the detective opened the door to the boxcar.





He noticed right away the body lying in the corner. He ran to the corner of the car, and looked at the hobo with his pen and pad and Bible in hand. As he read the aforementioned writings in the pad he looked at the thermometer on the boxcar wall. It said fifty-four degrees. He looked around the boxcar, and a tear came to his eye. For at that moment he knew that this was the Man his mother had told him about so very many times before she had passed away





The detective hung his head in silent mourning for the unknown hobo and silently walked away. He knew their paths would cross again as he paid his final respects.





The misty morning was hazy and cold as he stood by the casket bearing the hobo's remains. At the stone, already placed, he silently read the words:





"Here lies Mary Gifford and a Man that God has called home. May you rest in peace"





A stranger approached him and gently extended his hand, "My condolence Mr. Gifford, your father was a hell of a man".









Copyright 2001 Dennis Hicks