(Can you guess who is telling this story?)
I watch her as a bee buzzes past my head. The sun is so bright I have to squint. She seems so peaceful, watering the green foliage along her porch with a skinny rubber hose. Then she reaches up with a shaky wrinkled hand and begins adding water to the colorful flowers that hang in terracotta pots above her head. Pretty vivid pinks, reds and purples. My stomach rumbles again, reminding me that it's lunchtime. But I have to wait, I'm hypnotized as she hums a tune that reminds me of my mother.
I've watched her many times before without her knowing. I wonder what she would think of me if she knew. She always appears so blissful, but I sense an underlying loneliness. I can see it in her eyes; the way she sighs deeply from time to time, as if she longs for younger days. I wonder if anyone ever comes to visit. I've never seen anyone else around. Each time I plan my journey to her place, I always hope that I will be brave enough to finally come out of hiding and introduce myself. Maybe she would enjoy the company. Many of my friends assure me that I am very entertaining and seem to spread joy wherever I go, but each time my fear has kept me at a distance; afraid of pestering and infringing on her privacy.
I watch her coil up the hose and sweep the dead leaves and debris from the floor of the porch in slow rhythmic strokes, while her orange tabby cat Marley eyes me suspiciously from his perch on the porch stairs, hunching his back as he stretches. I pull back deeper into the shadows of the pine tree so he won't get any ideas about heading my way. I don't like cats! Especially not after the ordeal my brother went through!
I can hear a mother robin in her nest on a limb above my head, angry as heck that I am encroaching on her space. Letting me know that my presence is not at all welcome here. “I don't mean you any harm,” I whisper to her, but she doesn't seem convinced. She frantically flaps her wings showering me with pine needles while continuing to curse me out. “Maybe I should go,” I think to myself. I can hear her babies chirping in a fit of hunger reminding me of my own need for nourishment.
I gaze back at the porch. She's still there. After filling the goblet with sweet red ambrosia, she rearranges the trinkets hanging between the flower pots above her then plops down in a blue cushioned rocking chair, letting out another long sigh. Turning her face towards the sun, she shuts her eyes. My heart begins to race and my breathing does as well, so much so that I feel myself flutter all over with excitement. Now is the moment. “I can do this,” I say to myself. I looked around for Marley, finding him clear across the yard, stretched out lazily on the green lawn, licking his left paw. “Perfect!” I take off fast, heading straight for the glass of wine, being super careful not to wake her. I reach my destination, sticking my nose deep into the succulent sweetness of the red.