The Kingdom Land by Bart Tuma Page A

out in his mind.
    It was unusual, but he didn’t see his uncle at the
breakfast table. He didn’t know if his uncle was hurt, angry or
ashamed. Erik didn’t quiz his aunt nor did he add further
conversation. He simply ate the pancakes and bacon and headed for
the fields. His aunt watched him go, silently praying that his lack
of conversation was not a sign that Erik had once again retreated
away into his isolation.
    Erik went through the regular routine of preparing
the John Deere for the day’s labor. He filled it with diesel from
the large pump tank. He greased the plow and checked the dual tires
by bouncing a hammer off their treads, inspecting them to make sure
no rocks had become lodged between them. But this routine was done
without thinking. He worked as a machine doing its task. It was
only when the tractor started and the plow was plunged into the
soil that Erik began to think.
    In the past he would have taken this opportunity to
escape to his dreams. Today he could only think of the reality of
the last two days. There was something about the deafening roar of
the tractor and the taste of dust in his mouth along with the
routine of endless circles in the field that made his mind clearer.
As much as he hated the work, it was on the tractor that he could
try to make sense out of the last few days.
    His uncle had said that the state had asked for money
for funeral expenses. He wondered if the Coopers had sent money or
if his mom had been buried in a cheap box in a pauper’s grave. He
thought it was almost a peculiar speculation. Certainly she had
never cared nor given anything to anyone else. Why should the
Coopers send money? They had supported her child for years, wasn’t
that enough? Still, it was a question that came to him, and a
question he knew he would never ask. This was a woman who had cared
for no one, but this woman was still his mother. He hoped she had
been buried right.
    The questions he asked himself allowed Erik to know
that he had changed in a short period of time. In the past, he
would not even have acknowledged his mother’s existence, let alone
worry about how she was buried. He knew something was different. It
was ironic that the difference of caring meant a renewed sense of
abandonment and betrayal. When he had talked with John in the
diner, it all seemed so simple. Love God and your neighbor. God
forgave you so you needed to forgive others. That reality seemed so
simple and easy as they talked just a day ago. Now he had just
gotten hit with the cold reality of how difficult it could be to
forgive.
    He then thought of his uncle. He found it impossible
to be bitter towards him. His uncle hadn’t done anything wrong, no
matter how hard Erik tried to find fault. His uncle was right. What
good would it have done to tell Erik years ago? Erik had never
expressed any interest in his mother, had never asked of her. He
realized that his uncle could have thought it would drive Erik away
even further. He also realized his uncle hadn’t caused his mom to
be a druggie. He was just the person that got the death
certificate. What was he supposed to do?
    Erik felt ashamed of himself that he had responded so
bitterly towards them last night. He wished his uncle had been at
breakfast, but he also knew he needed time. The Coopers had done so
much for him and had tried so hard. They had made mistakes, but the
mistakes were never out of spite or anger or lack of caring.They
had never had kids themselves and Erik knew he wasn’t exactly the
easiest person to parent.
    On the way home from the diner he had known that he
had to reach out to the Coopers. Then within hours he had slipped
back into his old shell. Again, that which had seemed so clear and
so simple was going to be harder to live than he anticipated. Just
as he knew there had been a change within him as he thought of his
mother, he knew he had to also change from his old habits. His
habit wasn’t booze, like the winos