"Don't take it to heart," Hodge said with a laugh as he led the donkey along.
"Most of the eligible young men in the village have been sent off for labor service, and many haven't returned yet.
The girls are getting older, so naturally, the women in the village are anxious."
Borne nodded, still feeling a bit embarrassed.
"You see, if a girl isn't married by the age of fourteen, her family has to pay extra taxes every year."
Hodge continued, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness.
Borne was startled, remembering the strict rules set by the church.
Over the years, the church's demands for labor service and taxes had become harsher, even turning marriage into a matter of survival.
Seeing the expression on Borne's face, Hodge patted him on the shoulder.
"Don't overthink it. Just go home and see your grandfather.
He's been eagerly waiting for you.
He'll be thrilled to see you."
Borne nodded, realizing there was nothing he could do to change the situation.
"The village has changed a lot over the years.
The roads have been rebuilt," Borne said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
Hodge nodded in agreement.
Though everything was still there, the passage of time had left its mark, making the village no longer the same as it had been when Borne left.
The once-uneven paths had become smooth, and new brick houses now stood where old homes had once been.
Borne couldn't help but think of the days when he, Dillon, and Victor had run wild across this land.
Their playful figures still lingered in his mind, but reality had since separated them.
As they continued walking, Borne saw a familiar old tree in the distance—the landmark that marked his home.
His heart tightened as he realized he was finally about to return.
Borne stopped in his tracks, suddenly afraid to move forward.
Although home was right before him, fear began to creep into his heart.
Noticing Borne had stopped, Hodge spoke up.
"Don't be scared. Your grandfather has been thinking about you every day."
Hearing Hodge's words, Borne felt a little more at ease.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm his nerves.
He tightly gripped the basket and the hen in his hands, his gaze fixed on the familiar old tree.
He nodded and slowly walked toward the front door, each step feeling like a journey back to his past.
Memories and reality intertwined, making the experience both strange and comforting.
When he reached the door, he found it was closed.
Hodge knocked on the door while shouting, "Middleton! Open up! I've brought someone to see you!"
Footsteps approached from behind the door, followed by Middleton's voice.
"Who is it?"
"It's me! Hurry and open the door!" Hodge replied.
The sound of the latch being removed came from behind the door, and soon it creaked open, revealing Middleton's wrinkled face.
The old man stared at Borne, puzzled, his eyes scanning the young man from his boots to his face.
When Middleton finally recognized Borne, he froze, his pipe slipping from his fingers and falling to the ground.
In an instant, Middleton knew this young man was his grandson.
"You're back?" His voice trembled as he spoke, his lips quivering.
At that moment, all of the weariness, worry, and sorrow he had carried in his heart seemed to wash away.
He finally let go of all those heavy emotions, a faint smile spreading across his face, his eyes filled with warmth.
"Grandpa, I'm back," Borne said, his voice soft.
"That's good, that's good. Come inside," Middleton said, quickly opening the door wide to invite Borne in.
Hodge stood at the entrance, seeing the warmth of their reunion.
He waved his hand with a smile and said, "This is your time together. I won't intrude."
Middleton insisted that Hodge come inside, but Hodge politely declined.
"Another time, perhaps. I'll come by when I have more time."
Seeing that Hodge was determined not to stay, Middleton went back into the house and returned with a piece of homemade jerky.
"Here, take this as a token. It's jerky I made myself."
Hodge, not wanting to offend the elder, accepted the jerky with a smile.
"I'll gladly take it. I'll come visit again soon."
Borne handed the basket and the hen to Middleton, then looked around the house.
The familiar surroundings seemed strange to him now.
Time had passed, and with it, his memories had faded, leaving everything feeling distant.
The house had both a front and a back yard, and there was a small open space in front of the house.
Borne's eyes wandered around the interior, trying to find something familiar.
Middleton walked into the kitchen to put away the basket and hen while Borne stood there, memories of his childhood flooding back.
He remembered the summers when Leon was still alive, how they would often sit outside under the big tree in the front yard, eating dinner in the cool evening breeze.
Sometimes, leaves would fall into the food, much to everyone's annoyance.
Borne's eyes fell on the roof, noticing that the tiles had been replaced.
The old, cracked tiles were gone, replaced by neatly arranged gray ones.
Even the door had been replaced, the wood grain on the new door clearly visible, a sharp contrast to the worn, old door he remembered.
As Borne walked toward the wall, he spotted some familiar graffiti, faded but still recognizable.
It was something he had drawn as a mischievous child.
The lines were faint, but the images he had once etched into the wall were still there.
Seeing these marks from his childhood, Borne felt a wave of nostalgia, as if the past and present were merging before his eyes.
Just then, Middleton came out of the kitchen, carrying two large bowls.
One held slices of jerky, and the other was a bowl of egg and vegetable soup.
"Eat something first. You must be hungry," Middleton said, placing the bowls on a stone table in the front yard.
The table, along with four stone stools, was immovable and had no backrests.
Borne looked down at the simple meal before him.
He wasn't particularly hungry, but when he saw the expectant look in Middleton's eyes, he nodded and sat down on one of the stone stools.
He picked up a spoon and began slowly sipping the egg and vegetable soup.
Middleton sat nearby, watching his grandson eat, a smile of contentment on his face.
"You're starting to look more and more like your father.
When I first opened the door, I thought I was looking at Leon," Middleton said, taking a deep drag from his pipe, the smoke swirling around them.
"You must've been through a lot these past years," the old man said, his cloudy eyes filled with love.
Borne's hand trembled slightly as he raised the spoon to his lips.
Hearing his grandfather's words, he forced a smile and shook his head.
"I'm fine, Grandpa."
Middleton gazed at Borne, his expression soft yet filled with concern.
He knew Borne must have endured much hardship.
The way his grandson held himself, never speaking of his pain, reminded Middleton so much of Leon.
"You're just like your father, always keeping everything inside," Middleton sighed.
How he wished the boy sitting before him could still be carefree, just like when he was a child.
The battlefield had taken away so much from Borne, forcing him to grow up too quickly.
Middleton tapped his pipe against his shoe to clear the ashes as Borne silently continued to sip his soup, his movements slow and deliberate.
He said nothing more.
"Grandpa, I'm done," Borne finally said, placing the spoon down and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
Middleton stood up, ready to clear the table.
"I'll do it," Borne insisted, gathering the bowls and heading toward the kitchen, still remembering its location from his childhood.
When Borne came back out, Middleton spoke again.
"Your old room is just the way you left it.
If you need anything, just let me know."
Middleton led Borne to his room and pushed open the door.
Borne slowly walked inside and set down his backpack.
That bed, once so large to him as a child, seemed much smaller now, almost cramped.
The room had a faint scent of wood.
Standing before the bed, Borne's eyes landed on the familiar deer head mounted on the wall.
His father and grandfather had hunted it together many years ago.
Borne had begged his father to hang the deer head on the wall.
His father had refused at first, but with his grandfather's encouragement, he eventually agreed.
The deer head was still there, its antlers now covered in a thin layer of dust.
Borne reached out, gently touching the deer head, feeling the remnants of the pure joy he once knew as a child.
But that time was gone, and he could never return to it.