Epilogue

I thought I would add the epilogue to this book that I havn't shared with you all yet.

Epilogue

The repetitive creaking sound of the rocking chair on the wooden veranda had soothed the baby to sleep. He lay in a woven basket by her feet, bundled up in blue blankets as the sun started setting over the horizon. He looked so peaceful, she thought, as she gazed at the soft features of his perfect face. His chubby rosy cheeks, his silky soft skin and tiny button nose. She smiled at him as he clasped his hands together and her heart swelled with love. She looked over at the other rocking chair; it had stopped moving and a small snore came from it. She smiled at her husband who’d fallen asleep with the newspaper on his lap- and her heart swelled even more.

She looked up. She’d seen it so many times before. She’d woken up to it every morning, and gone to sleep with it every night, but still, she could never get used to it.

The beauty. The majesty of the African bushveld rolling out in front of her. It looked like it might go on forever. That it would stretch all the way to the end of the earth. It had changed over the years, the trees had gotten bigger, their branches reaching higher and spreading wider. The dam, too, had changed shape so many times over the years, and the grasses had grown and died with the cycle of drought and flood.

But essentially it had stayed the same. Like her. She too was the same, even though her hands were now wrinkled and dotted with age spots. The years had carved deep lines into her face and the decades had turned her hair white and thin.

She knew she was nearing the end now. To the end of a life well- lived. A life that had been so full of meaning, and love. Her fifth grandchild sleeping at her feet, her husband of sixty years snoring next to her in the house that he’d built with his own hands. The house they had raised their family in together.  It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d held her children in her arms, cradled them as they had come into the world.

Her daughter had taken after her; she’d left to live the life of glamour in London. But a few years later, she’d came running back. She smiled. She knew the feeling. Africa has a way of getting into your soul like that; you always came back to it. Her son had always wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, though, the man he’d idolized his whole life. He ran the lodge with his wife now.

She took a deep breath, the air here had a certain smell to it. Wild grasses and dust gave it an earthy aroma that was comforting and familiar. She would be apart of the earth soon. This was her home and so much had happened here. She’d laid her aunt to rest here, her father too, she’d scattered his ashes at the foot of the great Baobab tree that still stood tall and proud with the initials carved into it’s trunk.

She looked back on her life; she’d accomplished so much. The schools she had built, the charity and conservation projects she’d started, but all of that was nothing compared to her greatest accomplishment.

That she had decided to come back. That she’d decided to become the woman that she was always meant to be. That she had loved with her entire heart.

She put her head back and closed her eyes, totally content. Her hand reached across and sought his out. She took it in hers. It was also wrinkled and calloused from the years of working. She squeezed it lovingly. The snoring stopped for a second, and she felt him squeeze back.

“Love you.” His voice sounded old now.

“Me too. A lot,” She whispered back to him.