The Reunion at St.

Joshua’s

With the echoes from my footsteps, I find myself gazing upon the familiar corridors of

St. Joshua’s, the place where I last saw my grandfather before setting foot upon the battle field.

The amber scent of the nearby autumn gardens brought nostalgia as I reminisce the days I spent

with the man who was more of a father to me than my biological alcoholic father ever will be,

and within the walls of this rotting yet strong building was where I’ve spent most of my days

listening to his countless stories about his days in the same battle field as a renowned soldier.

Now, I walk in the same boots he once wore while following his path as one of the

greatest soldiers they’ll write in the pages of their history books. The caretakers give me warm

smiles as I pass by and some even choose to salute as I walk along the hallway of St. Joshua’s.

However, I am not here to visit the man I called Pops.

I chose to return to fulfil my promise to the girl whose frosted eyes gave me reasons to

live in a world I’d never thought I will choose to love. Who ever thought in this world born of

pain, war, and violence, her serene voice and calming eyes exist.

I knew her as Lila Adams, Pops’s care taker. Like every conversation that ever existed,

her first words to me were “Hi... what’s your name?” and those words continue to play over

and over in my mind as her frosted eyes takes me to a different world here only joy exists. As

cliché it may sound, perhaps this is what you call Love at first sight, but unlike every children

fairy tale, love is not a simple journey of just mere happiness and teasing.

Our love story perhaps begins with death and grief. My eyes that glistened every time

I listened to my grandfather’s stories, were now filled with tears as those stories played on its

own in my mind, with each word, I heard Pops’s voice. Without his presence, I lost myself....

but I was not truly alone for Lila served as my source of joy when I’ve lost nearly everything

to the inevitable reality of the world.

1
 Lila was my only light, a friend I never thought I would have met, and maybe even a

lover I never expected. From the girl I only knew as Lila Adams, I now knew her as the woman

I’d bring to the aisle one day, who would share with me the bittersweet journey of life, who

would bring comfort in my arms even as the sounds of bullets and the cries of men grew louder

each day and like my hero, I became a part of it. Before I set my path towards my death or even

glory, I left a promise to my Lila: after days of endless violence, and nights of paranoia, if I

still breathe and live to see the end of war, I’ll return to her arms and perhaps one day, she’ll

no longer have to carry the name Adams.

I could no longer count the days, week, months, maybe years I fought for the peace of

my nation but most importantly, I could no longer remember the last letter I sent her, nor the

last time I heard her voice, all I could recall are those frosted eyes and her name, repeating over

and over in the chambers of my heart. At the end of this senseless battle, I still breathe the air

of this world I’ve learned to love – the world where Lila exists.

Now, I walk amongst the corridors of St. Joshua’s, each footstep seemed to be an echo

of my heart beats. Eventually, I find myself in front of a door where a name: L. Richter is

embedded on a metal plate. It was not her name but it seemed to call me and before I could

even turn my back, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Are you here to visit Mrs. Richter?” asked a modulated voice from behind. As a

response, I shook my head and gave her a sheepish smile, and I stared back at name on the

wall. Despite my muted answer, the young volunteer held out the door, “Would you perhaps

like to join her? She’s been lonely for all these years, well she couldn’t really remember

who her relatives were,” and as if my legs moved on their own, I entered the gloomy room,

with only blue flowers standing as its ornaments.

2
 Facing the opened windows of the room, an old woman, hair as silver as the moon,

slowly rocks her chair as her frosted eyes gaze over the world outside the walls of St. Joshua’s.

My shaking knees began to move once more on its own. I walked closer and closer, my eyes

suddenly blurs my view but I don’t believe it was the fault of my glasses, but as if tears suddenly

appeared. I stopped beside her and knelt despite the agony of being an old man. I could hear

he volunteer calling out behind me but I could not make any words. The only thig that came

within my mind was the woman I’ve been longing for all these years, carrying someone else’s

family name.

I felt the world finally silenced in this moment as she turns her head towards me and

once again, I stare at those sad frosted eyes. I reminisce all those moments I looked within

those eyes, and the last moment I saw those eyes before the battlefield took my precious time

and my youth. Now it’s been years – perhaps decades. My hands shiver as they find a way to

hers. I can’t help but imagine a life where I don’t wake up to soldiers’ bullets or a life where I

stand not for my nation, but perhaps a wife or a family.

Now I feel envious of the man who probably brought joy into her life. I wished I could

have been the man to bring her in front of the aisle, to see her smile as she walks down with

her white dress, to write a journey of bittersweet life with joy and love, to begin a new

beginning, to be by her side until time comes to a halt.

“I’m sorry...” my voice croaks, breaking the deafening silence of this room as I return

to the arms of reality. She looks at me with a blank stare. The volunteer stands in front of the

door with silence, anticipating a story unfolding. Just as then, Lila smiles. She ushers me to sit

on the arm chair in front of her and without hesitation, I took her offer.

3
 As I sat down, I think to myself that perhaps it is still not too late. Perhaps we could

still return to the beginning and give this fairy tale a happy ending. And like every conversation

that ever existed, she started ours with, “Hi... what’s your name?”