STORIES FROM HOME - Chapter Two
One dreamy, breezy May day, just when the bright green buds had started growing into cool, lovely summer leaves, the skinny, little calico cat came to lay on the sad little house’s weathered and worn front porch.
Whenever the skinny, little calico cat came to visit, the sad little house could more easily remember the happy days when its grey painted porch floor had been swept tidy and clean. And hearing the purr of the cat made it easier to recall the “creak, creak, creak” of the rocking chairs and the happy, clinking sounds of the ice in glasses of lemonade.
But on this particular day, after only a few moments of laying in the warm sunshine, the skinny, little calico cat jumped up and ran toward the pond, at the edge of a woods, at the edge of a mountain.
The sad little house watched it go.
And although the sad little house felt lonelier for the cat leaving, the sunshine was warm and the memories were sweet and the sad little house felt drowsy and wonderful on that dreamy, breezy May day.
A few moments later, the sad little house heard a sound coming from the pond, at the edge of a woods, at the edge of a mountain.
Because of the cool, lovely leaves and the tall weeds, the sad little house could not see what was making the noise. When the sounds came again, the sad little house almost, but not quite, thought that it heard the music of children talking and laughing.
Suddenly the sad little house wasn’t drowsy anymore.
It stood up very straight and listened carefully, but there were no more sounds .
Sometimes when memories are strong, imagination can make recollection seem real.
And just as the sad little house was convinced that is what had happened, there came a loud shout from the pond.
It had been so long since anyone had spoken or shouted around the sad little house! Could it have been the yell of a child?
Through the soft sound of the breeze, the sad little house began hearing little snippets of words.
Through the whisper of the cool, lovely leaves dancing in the sun, the sad little house started hearing little bits of happy laughter.
And it waited.
Hidden behind all the tall weeds and the cool, lovely leaves, at the edge of the pond, at the edge of a woods, at the edge of a mountain...
The sad little house waited.
To be continued on Tuesday, May 4.
(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
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