Going Home

It was late afternoon when all those who had come to mourn with them finally departed. Naomi sat in her bedroom chair, looking out the window but not really seeing. In all her life, she had never felt so numb, so devoid of emotion. First, her husband’s death, and now, both of her sons were gone. In the blink of an eye, she and the girls were all alone and destitute.

The house was silent except for her sons’ wives, Ruth and Orpah, who were busy cleaning and sweeping in the outer room. Naomi could hear one of the girls crying quietly, and without turning around to look, she was certain it was Orpah. The girl had not stopped crying since they had received the news about the accident. Ruth, although distraught in the beginning, had gotten her emotions under control and had taken charge of everything. She graciously received all the townswomen as they had trickled in and out over the past few weeks.

Naomi could barely function. The shock and grief of the terrible loss made her body feel like she was walking through a thick fog, scarcely able to move without assistance from one of the girls. She had not uttered a word since that terrible morning when the foreman delivered the news of her sons’ death.

Still not moving, the older woman lifted her eyes and gazed at the blue sky with the fluffy clouds lazily floating by her window; she felt the warmth of the sun settle on her body. She thought, How can this day be so normal when nothing is normal?