It was probably the happiest time in Odysseus’s entire homecoming, to be welcomed by a god personally, entertained for a whole month, and even blessed with a fair wind after setting sail, receiving a wind bag that can almost be seen as the most generous gift that a keeper of winds can offer—such a breath of fresh air, so different from all the encounters they had made since the start of their journey.
It was probably the happiest moment, when he saw his Ithaca so close, only a glimpse away, just a few hours to end this tiresome journey that’s already taking too long. To be with friends still alive after what they had been through—the war, the Ciconians, the storm, the Cyclops—it’s never been this exhilarating, this liberating, to finally come home to his kingdom, to his family, and make up for what he had missed, just to fill the hole in his heart that’s been eating him up for ten years long.
Everything felt so reachable, so close at hand, right at that moment. There was Mount Neriton right across the water, there was Phorcys’s harbor already expecting their approach, there was the beacon fire lit by men already visible at this distance…but at that moment, he could feel only weariness. The stress that’s been building up in him for nine long days—it finally broke inside, the wind bag in his heart carrying all his fatigue, the weakness he tried to conceal for so long but just not long enough. He just couldn’t fight it, even when it’s usually such an easy trifle to overcome, since it’s exactly what he was so good at—to endure, to cling on to hopes of release, and of course to overcome the most insignificant matter such as this sleepiness that’s getting on him.
Had it been the Odysseus from any other time, he would’ve kept his eyes open with ease, making it through these remaining few hours. Things would’ve been so different then—all the reunions waiting for ten years would’ve been realized at last, for everyone, for him—for a husband returning to his long-awaited house seeing everything in order, for a son just in time to see his mother smiling for one more time…
All of those, so abruptly robbed away from him, the moment he surrendered to weariness, and closed his eyes.
And when he startled awake, the home so close to him suddenly became so far away, right before his eyes.
And there was only pain and remorse throughout the rest of their journey, the rest of his journey, even after making it home.
Yes, the horrors he had gone through after being taken away by storm were still brutal, the sufferings still real. But the one thing he regretted the most would still be that moment of falling asleep just before reaching home, because it hurts the most when something so close at hand is suddenly lost, as a chance missed forever—it’ll keep haunting him, with all those memories he didn’t want to face, and illusions he never got to live out.
And he would relive that moment over and over again, until he finally made peace with himself—yes, just himself, because as much as he’d want to curse the crew for opening the bag, as much as he was wroth at their betrayal, they were still his crew, after all. He would blame it on their folly, indeed, but he still felt the obligation of bringing them home, because it would hurt more if he didn’t, knowing full well it was his responsibility to take them away for war years ago. But for him, it was the moment of defocus that ruined everything, that left him feeling like a leader who failed to get hold of his command—and that’s something so hard to let go of.
Here, the complexity of emotions, the moment of shock, the experience so relatable, are what make the scene so standout. And to me, this would always be the heaviest moment in the Odyssey, cuz never have I felt so connected to a story like this, nor have I gotten better words to let out my thoughts and feelings, than relating this very scene.
