Aporia

indecision or uncertainty, or maybe not

– I don’t know if I should give him the cash. He might take it and leave me here without liquid assets and in financial distress. I doubt I’ll be able to pay my bills. And he might go and gets himself into trouble. What if he spends it all? He may waste it quickly and then find that life is tougher than I have taught him. I’m starting to wonder if I brought him up properly, as he ought to have found out that life is tougher out there than it has been for him while he’s been here. I fear I may not have trained him wisely. Perhaps I did something wrong that he came to me, effectively wishing me prematurely dead, and demanding his inheritance.

– Should I go today? I could stay wherever I like once I have the cash! Now I need to decide where to go. All the way to Dissipation City? I could stay in an hotel, or a guest house. Meat and two veg or full á la carte? It’s difficult to decide which of these girls I prefer. Or do I really need to make a choice, as all three seem willing…? I can place a bet on every horse in the race, and on each number at the roulette table. These chums may or may not like me for who I am, or perhaps just for my money. I’m having so much fun that I’m not sure I am all that bothered.

– The economy, driven by agriculture, will perhaps let us all down. My friends seem to have let me down, rather for some reason, and perhaps everyone is as hungry as I.

– Perhaps these unclean animals are not so bad… Yet they are practically starving, too, I think. Their food is probably unfit for consumption, and yet, strangely, I have been considering gnawing at the diseased pods myself, so great is this feeling within which may be hunger and may be worse than that – I just can’t decide.

– Oh, for how long will you run from the love of your father? For many days you have teetered on the brink of starvation, while unrelated farmhands toil at your father’s behest and eat joyfully every day at his table. Are you so filled with pride that you cannot return? You should probably arise and seek his forgiveness.

– Leaving the pig farm was perhaps the best decision, but this road is hard and the end will be humbling. How can I address the old man, whose early death I effectively wished upon him? I might say ‘I am so foolish,’ or I might say ‘I am not othy to be called your son.’ But I will probably finish with ‘please make me one of your hired men.’ I think. Unless he throws me out of the village, which he has every right to do, and may very well feel that way inclined.

– Could today be the day I stop waiting and hoping and decide to get on with the hard life here on the farm? I shall probably stay here on the roof for the morning, and then join the hired men working in the field over here (or perhaps the field over there instead), unless I go and examine the calf we’ve been foolishly giving extra portions of grain, when the famine we hear reported may be coming our way and so we should probably be husbanding our resources more pessimistically. But what is that figure on the distant horizon? Not my son, that’s for sure. Or… Does he walk like that? Only when his shoes are practically falling off his feet, and he wouldn’t be… But then it might be. It’s hard to know for certain. Oh, if only I could be sure!

– Who’s this chump running wildly? Dad wouldn’t be so undignified, so it can’t be him. Perhaps it’s someone coming to tell me to go away, as I feared. But he sounds like he’s happy, and he isn’t waving a stick… Could it be dad? I think it might be! He’s still running, and I think he might be happy…

– My son! My son! It’s hard to see you in this state, starved, footsore, weary. And are you returning?

– Father, make me an hired man, for I am no longer…

– Servants, have we any new shoes in his size? I think there may be some in my wardrobe – please check, and bring brown ones – no, black. No, both, and then he can choose.. And fetch a winter coat for him. One with a lining. No, a waterproof… or perhaps a short jacket. You might look to see if there are any with a hood. And it must have pockets. At least two, plus one on the inside, on the left. No, one inside pocket on each side would be better, probably. Meanwhile, tell Jed (or Nathan, if you can’t find Jed, as he may have gone into town for supplies – or Darius, if Nathan’s out on top field today, which I think he is, unless he’s working with the others who are checking out the threshing machine, I hope, ready for next week’s harvest – unless we do it over the weekend, as I’m wondering if it would be better to take advantage of the sunshine, as I think the weather might change – do you think it might change? Although the wind and clouds have dispersed over the last few hours, so perhaps not…) Anyway, get someone – anyone – (well, someone who knows what he’s doing, so don’t get Joshua or Caleb) to take – oh, or Thaddeus – to take the long sharp knife (it’s probably on the kitchen window ledge, unless it’s on the shelf by the bags of stud nuts or in the big red tool box – actually I might have left it in the brown one) and slay the fatted calf, and we should probably set a fire to roast it. Now, son, which finger is best for this family ring? Rejoice, everyone, either inside the farmhouse or here in the yard, for this my son was either lost or dead, yet now he’s found and alive! Have some more meat, do. Or vegetables if you prefer. Or not, if you’ve had sufficient.