Welcome Home

Sittin' on the edge of the bed, I rub my knee with arthritis-riddled fingers. It's flarin' up somethin' awful this mornin'. Rain must be comin'. Cold snap, too. Shit, it's already chilly. Winter comes too early, these days. Always comes too early.

Hoistin' myself up hurts everything, and I wince. I hobble over to the window and ask the sky about the storm. The cold front. She just looks back at me, calm and grey. I think of Normie's eyes, lively and blue, and turn back to look at her side of the bed, undisturbed since last year. She'd have told me to hurry up--hustle up, she might have said--get out there, feed and water 'fore the storm comes in. I return my gaze to the sky. A darkness is creepin' over the treeline. It's a warnin'.

But, Normie's right. I'd best get them animals fed and watered.

The only thing that creaks louder than my bones are these stairs. The sound echoes through the empty house, muffled only by the sound of the wind poundin' against the walls, the windows--asking if I heard what she said, demanding attention.

By the time I reach the bottom, I swear the temperature has dropped ten degrees. She's howlin' at me through the rusted tin chimney that climbs from the cast iron stove and out through the wall. It's a sad, mournful sound, but I have to laugh cause it reminds me of the sound we made as younguns when we'd blow over the open mouth of a glass Coke bottle. That mighta hurt her feelin's though, cause she quietened down a little bit, and I wince cause I didn't mean to.

The fire's down to embers. I grumble, and fight back a coughin' fit. Normie told me I needed to start sleepin' down here when they took her to--well, when she couldn't stay here no more. Said it stays warmer, and I didn't need to be on them stairs anyhow. Even made me promise before she--I mean, while she was...

I sniff and cuss under my breath.

That moan makes its way through the chimney again, which is strange cause I don't hear the wind blowin' this time. Just that sad drone, and I feel the urge to tell her I'm alright.

I'm alright.

I do need to get out there, though.

My boots are heavy, and my knuckles throb as I scoop 'em up from where they sit next to the door. I shuffle back to the couch, drop 'em between my feet, take a minute to catch my breath. Those boots are right there in front of me, but they feel a mile away. I can get 'em on, but I can't get 'em tied, and I don't care. I just stuff the laces down inside 'em. I ain't goin' far.

The knob is cold against my palm and the door sticks. I gotta yank on it a couple times to get it to comply. Brutus scrambles to life--well, the closest thing to scramblin' he can do at his age. At least I can bend far enough to give him a scratch behind the ear. He appreciates it, trots to the edge of the porch and I follow.

We pause there and I look up, askin' again. The smooth grey skies from earlier have started to ripple and whorl. I can smell the moisture in the air as well as I could smell the coffee Normie used to have brewin' before I even made it downstairs. I cinch up my robe. Probly shoulda put some pants on, but this won't take long, dependin' how my knees hold up on these stairs.

I take 'em nice and slow. Brutus watches from the edge of the porch, and once I'm on the ground safe, he lays down, his duty done for the moment. He's a good boy.

She's back to howlin' at me as I shuffle toward the barn. I move forward as she blows through the naked trees where the birds sit and sing in the spring. No singin' today. Just that rush of wind, whispering that warnin': Get your ass inside, dummy.

Normie's the one that taught me to listen to Mother Nature. Said she'll tell you exactly what you need to know. But she'll only tell you once, she won't belabor any points, and she doesn't suffer no fools.

Normie and her had a lot in common.

I furrow my brow and put my head down, determined--stubborn, Normie'd say. The wind hits me in the chest and I stall out for a step. I grumble at that. It irks me. I got somethin' to do and by God I'm gonna do it. And she can't stop me. Won't stop me. Not the way she stopped Normie. Didn't give Normie a chance. Where was her warnin'? You just showed up out of the blue and ate her up from the inside out. All I could do was sit there and watch. We threw everything we could at you, and didn't do a damn bit o' good. You just kept chargin' right along, didn't you?

She grumbles at me, a low rumble of thunder over the hills. She knows I'm right. I lean forward, pick up my pace. The sky's an angry coil of charcoal grey by the time I make it to the barn. The wind rips the door from my hand, slammin' it against the wall. My shoe strings have come untucked from my left boot. No way I can bend over and tuck 'em back in. I'll just be careful.

Ice begins to tap on the tin roof--tsk tsk tsk. By the time I manage to get the feed and the water out, it's comin' down in sheets. Ice and snow and rain.

I leave the door where it is when I stumble out against her fury. I don't wanna wince, don't wanna cover my face--don't wanna give her the satisfaction. But she's givin' me a tongue lashin' like I ain't never had. Not even when I broke that China dish of Normie's. I shrug my shoulders up to my ears and pull the flap of my robe up to cover my face.

I hear Brutus, but I can't see 'im. He's close, though. I lower my robe from my face so's I can see, but the rain and ice and snow's comin' in from all directions and I can't tell which way is up. There's a tug at my left foot and I'm spinning and a white-hot flash shoots from my hip to my toes and another flares up from my wrist.

Brutus is loud, but Mother Nature's louder, howlin' and hissin'. I cuss at her. She thunders back at me. I roar back at her. I try to be strong. Defiant. Stubborn. But the rain and the sleet are like razor blades against my skin. My rage exhausted, I curl into a ball in the cold wet grass. I close my eyes and start to cry and I surrender. Go on, then. Tear me up from the outside, the way you did Normie from the inside.

You win. You always win.

...

Brutus is quiet now. So is she. Dead silent. I open my eyes, and they flutter against the light. It's bright. Too bright. Radiant, like light has replaced the snow and the ice and the world. Warmth has replaced the cold. I push myself up. I'm standin' before I realize the pain's gone, that my rise was effortless.

An odd thought occurs to me: She swallowed me up. I'm inside her, and I think I wanna destroy her the way she destroyed Normie and then I think maybe that's what she wants. Maybe this is her way of apologizin'. Makin' ammends. Offerin' herself up.

But I don't want to destroy her. The thoughts--they're just words. There's no feelin' behind 'em. No urge.

Then: I'm not inside her, I'm part of her. Just like she wasn't inside Normie. She was Normie; Normie was her. She didn't destroy her, she accepted her. Brought her home. I'm not here to destroy her. I am her. I am home.

A form emerges from the glow. The house. Normie's there. On the porch. Brutus ain't, but he's probly got on the trail of a squirrel or somethin'. He'll come home eventually.

He's a good boy.

I jog up the stairs, the shoestrings floppin' from my left boot. Her smile warms my heart. She lays her head against my chest and now there are no words, only feelings. Only warmth. She leans back, places a hand on my shoulder, and we head toward the door.

In the open doorway, I turn and face the light. I lift my cup, nod an apology. I shouldn't have had such harsh words for you. You were just lettin' me know. Lettin' me know that winter was here again. It was time to go home.

I turn and follow Normie into the house, the light like the warm hand of a friend ushering me inside.

Welcome home.