The Yellow Ribbon
©2015 by Jon Gutmacher
Going home
so long ago
a Greyhound bus rolling thru rolling hills
filled with passengers
their journey long
all to a distant place
We sat together
Jim and I
teenagers on a trip
out to meet grandparents long estranged
way out west
so far away
there, to the California coast
And sat before us in seat alone
a man alone
so solemn there
an old worn suit, large paper bag
I couldn’t guess his age
But as we passed by towns so far
stretched down the road
all hours apart
I wondered about that man who sat
so solemn and so worn
The seat was empty
next to him
and I moved instinctively
sat right down
I sat right down
just cleared my throat
and then began to talk
He then looked up
He looked so worn
His eyes set deep
his brow so creased
but yet a smile crossed his face
I could see he wanted to talk
And as we talked
his story did unfold
how long ago, when he was young
he made a mistake
a deep mistake
and paid for it
with a sentence in hard time jail
And now he was finally coming home
or at least he was making the attempt
he’d written his family – if they wanted him
leave a yellow ribbon tied
on the grand oak tree
that stood just before the town
“If the ribbon’s there – then I’ll get off
“But, if it’s not – I’ll travel on.
“I have no idea – where then I’ll go
“But I won’t burden them, anymore.”
He shook his head
I could see both hands shake
he trembled there
so all alone
and then he said “I just don’t know.
“It’s been so long
“It’s been so very long.”
I moved on back
and sat by Jim
and took his hand
and told the story of the man in front
we were only several miles away
from where his town was coming up
And then I saw it
huge that tree
A golden oak – in morning sun
yellow ribbons adorned – by the hundreds to see
covered almost every branch
The man wiped a tear
and then got off
with just that big paper bag
his hope restored
and I saw his family gathered all around
as the bus moved out
and down that lonely road
long, long ago