Love Resides Beneath the Porch

This wasn’t how I had planned on spending my day.

I had a rather full schedule, but…sometimes fate takes your day and twists it. The extension cord that is your life, the one you so carefully roll and put away, somehow, always seems to be in knots each time you need it.

The little critter had hopped in front of my car as I was leaving the house of my last grocery delivery. Lady Agnus had ordered her usual; Marie Calendar meals, cheese and whiskey. She certainly wasn’t the picture of health, but no one could argue that it seemed to be working. At 91, she was still living alone and, quite frankly, thriving.

My guess is the whiskey burned away all the infections that most older folks die of. Perhaps she bathed in it?

The thought made me chuckle to myself until that sweet tiny black kitten jumped out in front of my car. I yelped and put both feet on the brake. The tires squealed, making it hop faster, but it still wasn’t very fast. I was relieved when I saw it on the sidewalk, staring at me indifferently.

One of its front legs was clearly broken; Its sweet little paw tucked backwards. It used it as a stump, like a pirate’s leg, putting little pressure on it as it limped along.

I am my mother’s daughter. She once saw a kitten in her yard and decided to put food out, sit back hidden in the dark, and watch. It turned out there were more. Six kittens and their mother had been living in the wheel well of the trailer we never used. She put more and more food out, until one day they were gone. Had any of them ever come near her, they would have been loved for life.

I had to pull over and see if the sweet baby needed help.

I parked and got out of my car slowly; partly not to startle it, partly because my 48-year-old spine and knees didn’t work like they used to. Making all the sweet kitty noises my lovely mother taught me, I approached it slowly.

Its little head twisted to the side, watching me walk, half slumped over with my hand out, until I got a foot away from it, then it hopped away.

I followed. It kept looking back at me, like it wanted me to follow. Each time I got close enough to almost pet it, it would keep going. I was about to give up when it jumped into an overgrown yard and slipped under the porch.

It had worn a little trail to the underside of the stairs, and I sighed with relief to know it had shelter.

I turned to go back to my car when I heard a voice.

“Did that little guppy lead you here with her adorable face?” The voice was gruff, old, but the light tone, almost a chuckle, did not match the gravel that made up the words. It came from the porch, but I could not see who had said it.

“She sure did. She ran out in front of my car, so I wanted to make sure she was ok,” I said back. My hackles were halfway up. As a woman, we must always protect ourselves from strangers, and I could not see who was speaking to me.

I took a few steps sideways and looked around the rose and morning glory that had grown up and around the front porch of the little house. Sitting in a rocking chair was an elderly man. His glasses had full black rims, his white beard was long, and his blue fleece bathrobe exposed a little bit of white hair on his chest. On his head was a Mickey Mouse Fantasia Sorcerer’s hat. Just a perfect peak of blue with moon and stars.

He turned to meet my eyes. On his face he wore the broadest smile. His teeth showed signs of decay, but he was not afraid to show them off. His eyes were watery and blue and were framed by the deepest of laugh lines.

“She is a cutie, isn’t she?” he said, his deep voice was quieter now. “I haven’t been able to pet her yet, but I hope to someday. I know that little leg of hers must look-a-fright. I can’t really see it. I just can tell she hops rather than runs. You didn’t happen to get a close look at it, did you?”

I smiled then. My mother would have liked this gentleman very much. “I did get a pretty good look at it. The little paw is bent backwards. It was certainly broken at some point, but it doesn’t look too bad. It looks like it healed, and she has just learned to live with it,” I said. “How long has she been under your porch?” I asked.

“Oh… she’s been under there a couple weeks now. I put food out here on the porch, and she comes up at night and eats. She won’t come up when I am here, but I think… if I am a peaceful enough soul, maybe someday she will,” he said.

“You sound like my mother,” I said. “She was always feeding stray cats and making them love her. I called her Snow White because they flocked to her.”

He laughed outright then. “I don’t think you can call me that,” he said. “I do love Disney very much, but I am sad there are no tales of young men that were good with animals. Their only failure as far as I am concerned.”

“I did notice your hat,” I said, walking a bit closer to the porch to keep from having to project my voice. “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is one of my favorites.”

He smiled even more broadly then. He reached up his hand, twisted with arthritis, and touched the hat from tip to brim. “I love this hat,” he said. “My grandson gave it to me after the very first Halloween where he picked his costume. He said I inspired him to dress as Mickey, so when he was done with it, he gave it to me. It…well…it started a tradition. He paused. “I am so sorry. I am being rude. Would you like to come up and have a cup of tea with me? I have a pot here. Just made it. It’s still hot.”

I looked up and down the street and at his overgrown yard. If I had been listening to this on a true crime podcast, I would have been yelling at me “run!”  But…something about him, his home, the kitten, the hat – just made me want to stay. “I would like that very much,” I said. “Let me just shoot a text to my husband letting him know where I am.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll just go get another cup while you do that. Do you like milk or sugar?”

“Both, please.”

He nodded and pulled open the squeaky screen door and shuffled inside. 

*****    

Frank was English. He was 86, widowed and lived alone.

We decided that on Thursdays, after Lady Agnus’s delivery, I would stop by and visit.

On my second visit, my beautiful pink rose teacup was already sitting out. He had milk and sugar sitting next to it. Frank had gotten dressed this time. His collared shirt was wrinkled and worn. It had a few tiny holes in the front of it, but it was clean. It did not match, per say, his sweatpants, but I guessed they were the easiest for him to pull on and take off.

I sat slowly into the rocking chair. My herniated disc screaming at the effort. I twisted slowly toward the tiny table between us and poured my tea.

His brow furrowed. “Are you ok?” he asked.

“It’s nothing Frank. Just a bad back,” I said. “Don’t worry about me. I am still able to do things, I just do them slower and more carefully than I used to.”

He chuckled then. “I hear that! I live my life like someone put a record on at too slow of a setting. Everything is all deep and slow and agonizingly annoying. Even watching myself trying to put on these pants this morning made me impatient.”

I giggled then. “You should have seen me unloading my client’s groceries today. One tiny bag at a time. She is 91 and I am pretty sure she could have done it faster.”

On his head was a pirate’s hat. A big red to-do with a feather on one side. I chuckled, “Captain Hook, I presume?” 

“How did you guess?” his face lit up. The crevasses of his laugh lines carving the tale of a life lived in joy across his face. “This was my grandson’s second Halloween costume. Boy that kid really did love to dress up.”

“Does he love Disney as much as you do?” I asked, carefully putting sugar and milk in my cup and stirring. I was so focused on my task that I missed the moment when Frank’s smile disappeared.

“He did, yes,” he finally said, his gaze drifting out to the yard, a deep crease between his brows.

A lump instantly formed in my throat. I knew what was coming. I knew I was going to ask and could not stop myself.

“’Did?’ Frank, did something happen to him?” I finally asked.

He turned back to me then. His blue eyes were even more watery than usual. His deep gravelly voice now sounded like boulders.

“My son Craig and his wife Holly used to come over every Sunday with Micah. Craig would come and mow my lawn,” he said, nodding toward the overgrown yard. “Holly would clean. My grandson Micah would sit and talk with me for hours while they worked. Then we would all have a nice supper. I taught Micah how to play chess, checkers, connect four… his favorite was battleship.” He took a sip of tea then. His hand shaking as he set it back down on the little table.

“We didn’t talk much during the week, because I knew I would see them on Sunday,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now. “Then about seven months ago, one Sunday, they just didn’t show up. I waited a long time before I worried. They were young and busy and had lives of their own. I figured they just had something come up, and they would call.” He gulped and studied his hands.

“The next morning, there was a knock at my door. I didn’t have to open it to know what happened. Craig would not have knocked. Anyone who knows me, would not have knocked.”

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes.

“They told me it was an accident. They were crossing the tracks out in the county where they lived, and they didn’t see the train. It was my birthday, you see, and the car was filled with balloons. They were coming to surprise me with a dozen Disney balloons and Micah’s latest Halloween hat.”

I put my hand to my mouth and attempted, but failed, to blink back tears. 

“They never knew what hit them,” he choked. “I wear the hats in their honor.”

I reached over and grabbed Frank’s hand then. And we rocked in silence for a few minutes. He sobbed, and I let my silent tears stream down my face. I just held his hand and let him cry. There was nothing I was ever going to be able to say that would make it better.

We sat like that until the little black kitten popped her head up over the edge of the porch.

“Will you look at that?” Frank said as he wiped his eyes again. “She’s never done that before.”

I smiled in silence. We both stopped rocking and found a stillness between us. We did not want to scare her.

She approached slowly. One timid, hobbled step at a time. Finally reaching Franks’ seat, she stood on her back legs and rubber her cheek against Frank’s still hand. Once, twice and on the third time, her little purr started up. He moved one finger very slowly. She paused and stepped back, watching. Then she approached again and rubbed a few more times.

Across the street a neighbor’s car door slammed, and the kitten hopped away, back under the porch.

Frank and I looked at each other. We held each other’s tear-soaked gaze for a long moment, and then smiled.

“Have you decided on a name for her yet?” I asked.

“I was thinking Nemo would be a good name for her,” he said.

I chucked, understanding the reference to the imperfect little fin. “I think that is a perfect name.”

*****    

“Did you ever want to have children?” Frank asked during one of our visits.

“I did, Frank. I really did,” I said, staring into my teacup. “We just never had any luck, and well… we could not afford to do fertility treatment. So…this is the hand we were dealt.”

He nodded solemnly.

“But that’s ok,” I continued. “I think I was meant to give that part of myself to others; People who aren’t my children. I like delivering food to those who cannot get out of the house. I feel like I am doing good work,” I said. “Now all I want from this little life is to care for others.” I smiled at him.

“RBG said that’s what a meaningful life is. ‘One lives not just for oneself, but for one’s community’,” he quoted.

“Well, aren’t you just a charmer,” I said.

“I know. That’s how I landed my wife.” He winked at me.

******

Nemo and Frank continued to bond. I would often arrive and find her sleeping on my rocking chair. She would get up, stretch, and hop away when I approached. It felt like she knew it was my turn. She was happy to give me the privilege of keeping Frank’s company.

A few months into our friendship, Frank allowed my husband to mow his yard. He was reluctant to accept help, but I insisted. I sat with Frank, in his Jafar hat, and we watched the transformation happen. His yard was quite beautiful underneath all the overgrowth.

My husband mowed and knocked back weeds with the trimmer, he clipped the roses around the porch and pulled down the morning glory.

It was loud and Nemo did not peek her head out that day.

“How is Nemo?” I asked.

“She’s great. She’s let me pet her more and more. I have not held her, she’s not come in the house or on my lap yet, but I am hopeful that will happen soon,” he said, with a wide smile.

When we left that day, he thanked us profusely. “It has been almost a year since that was done. It is nice to see the neighborhood again.” My husband told him he was happy to do it. I hugged him, and I said I would see him next week.

When we waved from the street, we could see Frank on his porch for the first time. He was no longer hidden behind the overgrowth. He rocked in his tall black hat with the red down the middle, sipped his tea and told us to drive safely. As we pulled away from the curb, I saw Frank tip his face up to the sun, and Nemo pop her head out, climb onto the porch and into my chair.

*****

That next week I came over on a Monday. When I arrived, the yard still looked wonderful. It is amazing how different a place looks when it has been brought into the light from such sorrow. The fall colors reminded me that the changing seasons of life are beautiful.

Frank sat on the porch, and I could see from my car he was wearing a Goofy hat. It’s bright green bubbled tower was visible from the road. I could not help but giggle.

I came bearing a gift for him. It was his birthday, and I wanted to take the focus away from the anniversary of his family’s passing. I grabbed the neatly wrapped package from the passenger seat and peeled myself from the car.

When I approached the porch, I could see Nemo on Frank’s lap. I wanted to squeal with delight, but did not want to scare her. When stepped onto the porch, for once, she did not run away.

I looked at Frank then with a huge smile on my face. His head was leaning back against his rocker. The warm sun was kissing his entire face. His eyes were closed, and he had a wonderful smile on his face. I had never seen him look so peaceful.

When I said his name, he did not move. Nemo did not move either. She simply looked at me with her big beautiful yellow eyes.

And I knew.

I put the gift in my chair and approached Frank. I felt for his pulse, and did not find one. I closed my eyes and let a single tear fall.

I leaned over and lifted his Goofy hat ever so slightly, and I kissed his forehead.

“Rest peacefully friend,” I whispered.

I leaned down and gently pet Nemo. She rubbed against my hand and purred. I told her she was such a good girl to keep him company. I picked her up gently, slid her into the front of my sweatshirt, and walked slowly back to my car to get my phone.

Nemo did not fight me. She snuggled in and simply purred.