Scott is coming home.
If I were a dancer, I would swirl around and around on my toes until I collapse. If I were a singer, I would belt out the Ode to Joy until my voice gave up on me. I’m none of those. I’m simply me, good old Lilly, nothing special. Well, perhaps a little special. Isn’t everybody special who loves another person and can show it? At least that’s the story I’m sticking to.
Yesterday Ama and Elise cleaned Scottie’s room all afternoon. I guess it’s their way of showing their love. Odd, if you ask me. Don’t ask me what they were doing all that time. At moments like that, I wonder how different we are. Did I ever clean up? Yes. Of course.
But Tom, who used the room last, wasn’t messy and didn’t hide half-eaten sandwiches under the bed. Tom! Mister cleanliness in person. I wouldn’t be surprised if he even coined the phrase cleanliness is next to godliness. Not that I believe for a moment that one gets closer to Heaven by washing their hands often and or moping the floors. Anyhow, he wasn’t messy, walked into the house with muddy boots, or hid half-eaten sandwiches and apples under the bed.
In my books, it was a wasted day. I could have used the time better checking out the cemetery. But Ama won using the argument she needed to teach Elise how to run a household. It feels like she’s preparing to go to the sanctuary and be with the little ones who already left us. I don’t want her to go. She is the closest thing to a good mother we ever had.
There are only a few of us left. It scares me because it seems who stays and goes is not something we can decide. It happens, just like spring turns into summer. Will it happen to me too? I don’t want to go. Fate can’t be so cruel and give me a taste of love only to take it away so soon? Like you had your moment in the sun, now clear off!
Most of my friends already went away. Luke has been gone for a while now. The same goes for Maddie and Toby, Lysette, Phoenix, Jimmy … too many. Our inner world is up in the air, moving and shifting all the time. Like tectonic plates that shape and re-shape the earth-crust with each earthquake. For such a long time our life was steady and predictable. All of us were always around. It may have been chaotic and more often than not unhelpful, but we were all there, helping the best we could.
We need a road map for this new way of life. Everything, and I mean literally everything, has to be re-discovered. It’s as if we are babies … without the cuteness-factor, those little bundles come with.
That we need to decide where to live is another big change. We have no idea where we want to live. I hate leaving Wright’s Homestead. I like it here because coming here has turned our life around in so many wonderful ways. Sky is right, though, we can’t live with the constant threat of an attack.
She’s worried about the little ones who are still with us. It’s almost as if she’s more concerned about them than us older ones. I was going to say adults, but Elise insists that I’m not an adult yet. I’ll have to have words with her about that. She’s getting too cocky.
I call Prince but he just looks at me. Since Ama put a folded blanket in front of the cooking range, he has decided that’s where he’s going to hang out most of the day. When Ama’s cooking dinner, she has to climb over and around him. It looks hilarious because she’s not the typical gymnast with her large body. I chuckle about that, even when she sends me a stern glance.
I thought dogs are always up and about, running around, sniffing at things, chasing things, and digging in the garden. He no longer does that. I guess he’s getting old. In human years he’s about seventy. He’s allowed to take it easy. Most of the time he’s lying on his blanket and dreaming of juicy bones, I’m sure. His twitching paw and his tail thumping on the floor now and then give this away.
“Come on Prince, we’ll get some pine cones from the forest.”
As soon as I get up and walk to the door, he pricks his ears and follows me. Everything to do with going outside is exciting. Dogs are easy. Sigh. I wish the tribe were too.
I open the door and jump back. There, on the front step are … I look away and back to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Someone placed two dead possums on our front step as if they were dead rats, trophies brought home by a tomcat to show off his nightly prowess. But we don’t own a cat.
My clammy hands are twitching and my heart is pounding, trying to keep up with my racing breath. My body doesn’t feel like my body anymore but like a humming bundle of electrical currents. Dead possums.
I stare at their lifeless bodies. My brain forms no coherent thought. Time stands still. All I hear is a roaring in my ears. I stare at my feet in an attempt to gain control over my out-of-control body.
I swallow hard and Prince nudges my hand that is no longer holding the door handle but falls to my side. A wave of fear touches the Tribe and swallows us up like the incoming tide swallows the beach until nothing but rocks are left for the surf to pound at.
Why didn’t Prince warn us?
“A fine guard dog you are. Someone came
