The Flower of Scotland
In the middle of losing my paternal grandmother, grandfather, and great-grandfather in the space of three years, I sat down in a rare conversation with my father. I told him that I loved him as I tried to help him care for his ailing parents, and that I knew this was a hard time for him. He told me that it was part of life - that someday I'd have to do the same for him, and my son would have to do the same for me. Soon after, one of the writing groups I belonged to had a challenge for writing a story that takes place in a foreign country. This tale is the result.
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The moment I walked into the dining room, I knew I shouldn't have worn the kilt. The black boots were fine. The dragon hoodie was fine. The natural black hair held with a Celtic knot pin into a ponytail and the earrings and the painted fingernails weren't the problem. Just, somehow, I knew it was the kilt. "What's that faggoty dress you're wearing, Robert?" my grandfather bellowed at me.
"Um, it's a kilt?" I tried to answer.
"Even ya say it like you're unsure, Robert. Is it a dress or not?" Grandpa glared at me through his squinted eyes, barely visible through his thick red and white brustly squirrel fur.
"Ah, don't be ranting on the boy, Angus," my grandmother, also a Red Squirrel but with fine grey throughout her fur, walked in from the kitchen carrying two large plates, one covered in potato scones, the other piled with sausage. My mother followed Grandma out of the kitchen holding a tray of kippers. "But your Grandpa is right, Robert. Ya should be wearing a kilt with the family tartan on it instead a' that...black whatever." With that she placed the plates on the table, then went back to the kitchen. Mom sat the kippers down as well, then sat at the table beside me, her short dark hair whisping around her face
My voice sounded small, even to me. "It's a utilikilt. It's made for everyday wear and use. I wear it a lot back home."
"Bah, any good kilt'll do that for ya." Grandpa scoffed as Grandma came back with a plate of fried eggs. She placed three of the eggs on Grandpa's plate, then placed three on mine. I looked down at them. Sunny side up. I hate sunny side up.
Mom reached down and squeezed my hand as she leaned close to me, her lapine ear brushing against mine. "It's only for the day," she whispered to me. "Since we're visiting the isles, we had to stop by and see them. The rest of the trip will be better, Rob. I promise."
At that moment Grandma placed a couple of eggs on Mom's plates, then her own. "Ah, I forgot the butteries and marmalade." With that she darted back into the kitchen. Grandpa had already placed several sausages and a couple of kippers on his plate and was eating heartily.
I ate in silence, nibbling on the egg whites and a buttery with marmalade. Mom, Grandpa, and Grandpa gossiped about people I'd never heard of between large bites of breakfast. When they finished eating, I stood up and started to help clear away the dishes. Immediately Grandpa grabbed my hand. I looked up to see his six foot bulky frame cower over me. "That's your Grandma's job, Robert. You're our guest. Why don't ya go walk around the cape a bit? Take a look at the place your pa was born. Now off with ya, lad." He scooted me towards the door. "And wash off that fingernail polish, lad. Makes ya look like a girl."
"Yes, sir," I answered as I walked out the door. The cool salt air that permeated everything here intensified the moment I stepped out of the door. Closing the door, I walked down the hill until my Grandpa's house was out of sight. Then I sat down on the grass and looked out over the waters of Cape Wrath. Off in the foggy distance I heard a lone piper playing "The Flower of Scotland," but I couldn't see where it was coming from.
I pulled the hood down over my face and sighed. "Damn it, Dad. Really wish you were here now. You'd know what to do. You always knew what to do." Sighing, I laid down on the grass, my hands behind my head, and sang with the music of the piper.
_O flower of Scotland
When will we see your like again
That fought and died for your wee bit hill and glen
And stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward tae think again_
Without seeing it, I suddenly felt the ground shift a bit as if someone lay down beside me, and a thick, soothing, familiar baritone sang with me.
_The hills are bare now
And autumn leaves lie thick and still
O'er land that is lost now
Which those so dearly held
And stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward tae think again_
I paused for a moment, then turned to the nothingness the voice came from. "I miss you, Dad," I whimpered.
"I know, Rob. And I miss you too."
"It's just been so hard without you. Mom hides it, but she cries nearly every night. I took a couple of part-time jobs to help out with the bills and help keep me in school. And Kyle's been wonderful at coming over to help to help with the housework and to spend time with me and Mom. But it's just not the same. And then Grandpa calls, insisting we come here. I wonder if he even knows this is the day you died last year." I turned back to the cape and blinked a tear away.
The form of an arm wrapped around my shoulders, and I rested my head against my father's chest. "And he doesn't like me, Dad. Grandpa, I mean. I'm not tall and ruddy and redheaded like you. I'm not gonna give him a great-grandchild. I don't speak Scots-Gaelic and I don't hate the English and...I'm just nothing like him."
"You're my son, though. And that makes you as like him as you need to be for him to love you. Remember Hamlet's eulogy for his father?"
I nodded. "'He was a man, take him for all in all / I shall not look upon his like again.'"
"And so shall you never see another man like your Grandpa. Or me. And we shall never see another man like you."
The arm on my back slowly lifted, as did the softness that my head rested on. "I love you, Dad."
"And I you, Robert Thomas MacLachlin. Always."
At that point, I heard the piper play again. I thought. And I turned back to the cape and sang.
_Those days are passed now
And in the past they must remain
But we can still rise now and be the nation again
And stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward tae think again_