The Resurrection

Ruthie and Winfield pulled against Ma’s arm in an effort to peer around her form. Their entreaty was to glimpse the secret that lay within the gloom of the barn, yet that secret remained elusive. Their heads dropped. The moment had passed, and new wonders beckoned to their senses. From the depths of an old tool shed that abutted the large open-ended barn, other imaginings enticed them from within its planked interior. They darted from Ma’s embrace to the tool shed, where easier secrets lay to be found. The undiscovered secrets they sought were hidden amongst a pile of old discarded hand and farming tools. These consisted mainly of blunt shears and broken fork handles, that waited in a rusting heap for repair.

Pa shuffled his feet in the twilight, “Is our girl goin’ to be awright?”

“Sure”, replied Ma, letting out a proud smile, “Roseasharn’s a fine full woman - she’s goin’ to do jes’ fine. I’m real proud, an’ no mistake. …Take a while though.” Ma paused, and peered back through a crack between the boards of the door to the silhouette of the young woman. “Reckon’ we’re goin’ be here the night, least ways. Let’s get set over there,” she offered, pointing her hand across to the interior of the open shed. The others followed her prompt into the deep gloom, and their shadows melted into nothingness. Ma listened to the steady rain drumming upon the roof, and spoke aloud to the darkness, “Better be up and gone ‘afore light; owner’s gonna be about - maybe dogs too.”

Pa and Uncle John moved into the unyielding darkness, and began lying straw and empty feed sacks upon the hard floor, “She ain’t much, but she’s dry,” said Pa. The extended Joad family rested their weary limbs into the coolness offered by the dark night, and although Ruthie and Winfield fidgeted upon the sacking, star-spun dreams washed away their tiredness into the blackness of the void.

…‘Tommy’.

The rain finally gave up its steady drumbeat, and the hope of a new day rested within the bosom of the heavens.

Al flipped the carburettor, and jabbed his forefinger at the fuel line, and cursed the puddles of water that lay within the engine bay. The battery cables were greasy and slipped through his sore fingers. He sighed to himself; ‘She’ll never dry here – have ta move her to higher ground.’

The water level had dropped two clear inches in the night, but not before precious and meagre belongings piled onto the boards of the van had been soaked through. ‘Gonna take all of us to move her through this mud,’ continued Al aloud, to no one in particular, and he laid the tarp over the bonnet of the sodden vehicle and tied down the tapes.

The steel grey sky had cleared and the morning light was rising to an opaque shimmer, yet the air was cool and brisk. There was a kick in the air, and sweet hope swept in anew from the fields, and life seeped slowly back into the exhausted soil and the tired people. The song of tomorrow was let loose. The tarpaulin billowed, filled, and shook fully under the sudden movement of the new air.

In the barn, the bridge to the troubled soul held fast, and the shrivelled figure began to stir once again. The gift of life spurted through the thin figure of the starving man, and colour began to return to his gaunt face. The man turned upon the straw bedding, and curled himself like an infant. Life was reborn, and the man breathed fully once again.

Rose of Sharon leant her head against the knotty post that supported the open end of the barn, and gazed out wistfully across the vastness of the pink horizon. She felt a connection with the land, and her breasts hung heavily beneath her cotton dress, but the soreness and sorrow remained. She heard a familiar voice, turned and smiled. “He’s ok, Ma. Sleeping like a baby...”

“You has to get some sleep Roseasharn,” offered Ma, pressing forward, “I reckon you missed your fill. We can’t rest up here too long – have to get the fambly whole again.” Ma threw a heavy wool wrap around the shoulders of the young woman. “You did what you had to - I know’d you would.”

Rose of Sharon's eyes burst with tears, “We lost our baby Ma!”

“I knows ya hurtin' honeychild, but it's the way of things - tis God's way,” offered Ma, and she turned and looked at Uncle John, who was holding a hand to his grizzled jaw.

The boy emerged from the tool shed and dropped to his knees at the curled figure. “He ain’t goin’ to die? Tell me lady!” pleaded the boy, looking into the eyes of Rose of Sharon, seeking confirmation of hope.

“Hush, now don’t you fret non, he’s a sleepin’,” said Ma. “Goin’ to do hisself a power of good, an’ no mistake – you let him be now. There’ll be time for stirrin’ soon enough,” she said. Ma laid her arms into her lap and turned her worried gaze to the shrivelled figure, “Let him sleep now.”

Uncle John stood motionless. He stared out into the night and the star-spattered canopy that spread over the heavens.

The morning light rose, and the dark shadows of yesterday began to melt away. Ma spoke again. “Come on Pa, we gotta get ourselves together - we has to get back.” Her eyes were aflame, yet the tears of the night were still etched upon her haunted face.

Pa slipped into the good light of the barn, and unrolled a grain sack upon the floor, and smiled, ”Found a few handfuls o’ grain in them; reckon no one’ll miss what’s left. …Enough for a fair feed I reckon.”

Ma eyed the humble offering and recognised the truth and the unrelenting shame. The shame fled from her mind as she thought of Tommy. “Sure, good.” The drumbeat of humiliation beat heavily once more across the Joad family, and the yoke of hunger remained. As one, they looked through the open end of the barn, and listened to the new sound of the day that called to them.

The rain had stopped.

The song of tomorrow beckoned a new dawn, and at once, the gloom was lifted from the face of the land. The anger that had sustained the people for so long was folded away, like a new dollar bill that would be kept for another day. Their share of losing had been halted in the hope of the new light, The beginnings of life had returned, and hope was yielded up to the pressed people as a sunlit offering. The sun smiled once again upon the land, and onto the faces of the people.

The boy watched the family slip through the morning shadows of the barn. They began to pull at their damp clothes. He spoke, and although the words he uttered were small, they stabbed deeply into the heart of the virgin day.

The day stopped.

“What’ll we do? …We’ve got no folks.”

The family turned and looked at the boy, and silence filled every space of the new day. Pa and Uncle looked to the others, and then to the ground, Ma looked at Ruthie and Winfield, and Rose of Sharon looked into the boy’s eyes, and understood the truth.

“I’ll stay”, she said quietly, and as she smiled into the open faces around her, and added, “‘till he comes to,” and nodded her head at the curled figure.

Ma came to herself, recognising the new power emerging, and spoke softly, “Roseasharn, if you’re sure, I mean …you keep with these fellas ‘til you’re full rested. We has to go back.”

“I know. We’ll be quiet, no one will know we’re here,” replied Rose of Sharon in the softly lifting light.

Pa stepped forward and wrapped his arm around her shoulders; “You’re a good girl Rosie. Keep quiet, an’ we’ll come back soon, once we get squared.”

“Gonna make a real soup an' fetch back some baking, for you and the boy,” offered Ma quickly.

Ma embraced Rose of Sharon fully and brushed back her long hair, “Keep yer’ selves quiet now, you hear? We’ll be back, real soon.” She looked at the boy, saw the fear fade, and felt his faith, the faith of the people – and knew the truth.

“Be as quick as we can,” continued Ma, casting a worried glance into the face of the new woman, “Roseasharn, sit tight now ya hear? An’ get some rest – why we’ll be back before you knows it.”

The parcel of land that ran from the worn-out field stretched far away, to the dirt road, and the slope of the land twinkled in the moist morning. The Joad family stepped quietly and carefully across the mud and the mire. Under the white light of a new day, they made their way back down to the road. Under the realm of the breaking dawn they slipped soundlessly back along the highway to the camp.

Some of the boxcars in the camp had shifted in the night, to become dislodged from their sleepers by the rushing water and swirling mud. The fall of the water level had left a black tide mark around the belly of the cars, and everywhere people splashed about, trying to find drying places for their wet clothes. The morning air was clean and crisp, but the wilful air had thrown many of their clothes back into the running water.

Diamond points of light flashed into the eyes of the family as they stacked their soggy bundles. The loading of the truck had now become as tiresome as the search for dry hanging space, but their heavy limbs worked purposefully in the promising light of the new day. Clear space was found upon the roof of the truck, and although the tugging wind had delayed an early start, they gathered their belongings quickly. Movement had returned to the washed-out and muddy camp, and all around old engines began to throb with life.

It was a new start.

Within the vastness of eternity, time has nowhere to hide, and the world turned slowly once again. Dignity held fast, and the sudden change of weather filled the beleaguered people with fresh faith and fresh hope. New life had returned, and the promise of the open road and a new tomorrow called out to the people, and they followed...