VIKTOR RETURNS HOME
Viktor watched the snow covered fields pass by through the train window. The sky was overcast with a thick fog that dared to block out the sun. The scene moved by in an endless cycle, a repeated pattern of houses, barns, and power poles. Viktor had a distant look in his eyes. His thoughts were far away from the landscape in front of him. His mind raced with possibilities. With hopes and dreams for the future. With doubts and darkness of the past. The track record of history was dark and brutal. Could the future be any better considering the present state of things? His old country priest used to say to him,
“Viktor, God has a plan for all of us. Whether or not we discover that plan is entirely up to us.”
In an instant the fields were gone, replaced by tall brown trunks of pine trees. From a distance they looked more like brown reeds blowing in the wind. But the forest grew up right next to the railway tracks, making the trees appear more like columns in some never ending Greek temple.
“In today's world,” Viktor thought, “people don't believe in God any more. The almighty is nothing more than an ancient artifact to them. He has been disposed of, and replaced with hedonism.”
Staring out the window again, Viktor spotted a lone gray wolf. It was only for a few seconds, but in that time he saw its silvery coat glisten in the yellow light from the train. Its face was black and its eyes were keen as an eagle’s. The expression on its face was alert and comp- osed. Viktor wondered what life must be like for a wolf. Whether the wolf enjoyed his existence in the forest. Did he have wants and needs? Surely he did. Most animals need food, a warm place to sleep, and companionship. It must be peaceful, to live out in the woods. It must be a simple kind of life; Listening, observing, exploring, and keeping a close eye on things.
Out the window a red railway signal passed by, followed by a sign with the letters “L-E-S-N-A.” Viktor gathered his belongings and prepared to get off. The train screeched to a halt in front of a small concrete station. He stepped off the train with nothing more than a backpack and army duffle containing all of his worldly possessions.
“Lesna,” Viktor spoke softly, “Here am I, on your door steps again.”
-//-
When Viktor entered the workshop he was met by the smell of dust and mildew. A clutter of tools and wood shavings covered the workbench. The windows were dingy and cobwebs clinged to the rafters. His Grandfather Ralph turned on the lights, and sat down on a stool beside the workbench.
“I am not the same as I used to be Viktor,” he said. “I am growing old and tired. I can’t steady my hands anymore. The work suffers from this. I have lots of orders but am unable to fulfill them. There is no one in the village that I trust to help me. They are all thieves, and lazy at best.
“Your grandmother has been very ill. She lays in bed for many days. I try to soothe her pain, but there isn't much that I can do. The doctor said that it’s cancer. He wont do anything about it. He claims that she is too old, and besides the procedures and medicines are expensive. We have no money Viktor. I am no better off than my grandfather was after the revolution. It's a miracle that we keep bread on the table. I asked the village apothecary to see her. She gave me herbs and medicines to treat her pain. I don’t think they help very much but your grandmother seems to like her visits.
“The work has been picking up. Lesna is not the place it used to be. People from the city are moving to the country.. They want to get away from the crowded cities and to live in houses. I make cabinets for their kitchens and bathrooms. I also build furniture for them because what is sold in the stores is cheap, and it breaks when the children bump into it. They come to me because I am the only carpenter in town who still makes furniture. They want something that will last.
“The days of the Communist are over. Maybe now in this new democracy Russia will finally see the prosperity we always hoped for. There are new opportunities for the independent working man like yourself. And with this internet and cellphone communication you could make quite a business for yourself here. Who knows what you could make of it? Well, God knows. He knows all things, doesn't He? Though His ways are often a mystery to us. I am glad that you have returned my son. It cheers my heart to have you here, and even more so your grandmother. When we received your letter she was overjoyed.
“Not much to do here in the workshop today. Tomorrow I will take you through it and introduce you to my clients. Now, let's get you settled in and perhaps have sum supper, yes?”
“Good idea, Grandfather,” Viktor replied.
-//-
Within three weeks Viktor managed to turn his grandfather's workshop around. He cleaned, sharpened, and organized all the tools and made an addition of a few power tools. In the morning Viktor entered the workshop, and started a small wood fire. Viktor liked to begin the day in quiet solitude, sipping on a cup of coffee, and reflecting on the previous day's work. When his cup was empty, he would pour another, and turn on the radio. He liked listening to music while he worked. It gave him a rhythm and cadence to work with. Sometimes he would listen to the old folk music, others electronic pop, and still other times old hymns. There was even an American rock station that he particularly enjoyed. Throughout the day the phone would ring with customers calling to place an order. At first the orders were only local. Then as word got around about Viktor’s good work even people in Moscow and St. Petersburg would phone in with orders.
Viktor ran his grandfather's workshop for many years. Sometimes the work became repetitive and dull, but then a custom order would come in and Vicktor would put his skills to the test trying different methods and improving his craft.
THE END
