Just behind the leaf..!

GOODBYE! I shout. “Goodbye dad!” they shout back. “Goodbye” I whisper and watch the retreating figures of my children. I wait at window and watch them as they slowly walk down the colony drive to the gate, and wave to them as they turn and wave to me. It takes a couple of minutes for them to reach the gate and I stand and watch and wave.
Last month a giant coconut leaf decided to grow downwards and everyday I see my view of the gate getting blocked. “Goodbye dad,” they shout and disappear behind obstructing leaf. I wait and watch though, knowing by now the time they would take to walk to the gate beyond.
“Sir,” shouts my secretary from the office room, “there’s a call for you.” “Tell them to wait,” I say as I stand at the window. “But there’s no one for you to wave to,” said a friend who had stayed with me, “they’re gone, why don’t you answer the phone?” “They’re not gone,” I say, “They’re just behind the leaf.” “But they won’t know if you go?” “They know I’m here,” I say.
This morning my elder one waved to me and disappeared behind the leaf. I stood and waited and then as I stared down the road, I saw small movement at the side of leaf far away. I saw she had stepped to the side of the road near the gate and leaning to her left was waving at me. I waved back.
“She knew I was there behind the leaf,” I whispered to myself, “She knew I had not gone away.” I waved back. I wave again. “Who’re you waving to?” I ask myself. “To a God behind the leaf,” I hear myself say aloud. I think of times in my life when I wonder where God has gone, “Where are you?” I shout. “I can’t see you. Why have you left me alone?” And then in the rustle of the leaves I feel His presence. “I am here Bob.”
“Where?” “Next to you.” “Those days of trouble?” “Next to you.” “When I was sick?” “Next to you.” “Rejected by friends?” “Right next to you Bob.” I walk down the road of life, a smile on face; I stop. I wave. I know He’s there, just behind the leaf, arms stretched out, waving back at me..!
—Email: bobsbanter@gmail.com