Reaching Ithaca was a dream come true. After the amiable and noble Phaeacians dropped me off, and the mighty mist cleared, I wept. The land that I had longed to see for twenty grueling years, the land that I wept for everyday at the island of Calypso, and the land I begged Aeolus to blow me to for the second time, was finally in front of me. From the great shore of Ithaca, overwhelmed with joy, I made my way to my loyal swineherd’s house disguised as a beggar. Soon after eating a hearty breakfast I was surprised by another joyous sight; my own son Telemachus. No other word could best describe how it felt to hold my own son, after waiting twenty long years, in my hands, the same hands that brought him into this world. No other word than magical.
After our loving embrace and after we caught up, we quickly devised a plan to bring down the suitors. A little while later, I found myself sitting in my own house. One might have thought I would be overwhelmed with joy, but it was quite the opposite. I was in my own house as a guest, sitting in a corner, disguised as a beggar, watching suitors try to win over my wife. How I hated the suitors. How dare they try to wed my wife, take over my kingdom, and take everything that’s mine when I am still alive! I wanted to kill each and every one of the suitors at that very moment. I wanted each of them to suffer a long and painful death at the end of my blade! But I restrained myself, for I could not risk dying and letting my son down over my anger. I would have to just wait until the right time to put my plan into action.
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