Story

Geronimo opened one eye a crack and languidly looked out over the plains. He was stretched out on the swinging chair that uncle Bo had hung on the front porch thirty years ago. The paint was cracked and scratched where Geronimo had incessantly played with the flaking lacquer, but this spring ma had made some brand new gingham cushions to off-set the fading geraniums in the window boxes. From his vantage point on the swing, Geronimo had an amiable view of the front garden and over the fields beyond. The sun was setting and ma was working hard to keep her sunflowers happy. In the front right hand corner of the garden near the water pump, she had planted tomatoes and sweet peppers and the glint of the sun was making the plump globes glow orange like fireflies. He could almost smell them sweetening on the vine as he took a deep breath and stretched out his arms over his head, giving a yawn so large that if you had been standing near by, you would have seen what he had consumed for dinner. He changed his position to one that was a little more upright, and watched as ma busied herself with the weeding. She was singing an old gospel song at the top of her voice, thoroughly immersed in the intricacies of shooing away field mice and making up new verses as she shooed. Geronimo loved to hear her rich smooth voice dance over the notes that he had grown to know so well. He was especially comforted and a delighted when she sang the blues, and knew that she would sing them just for his pleasure.

A dull bashing sound grew louder and threatened to interrupt him from his reverie. When it got so annoying that he could tolerate it no longer, he jumped up from his seat and ambled over to ma to find out what all the fuss was about. ‘Damn turkeys! They get everywhere!’ grumbled a disembodied voice from around the corner. ‘What are you fussin’ about now, John?’ sang ma tunefully as she continued with her horticultural activities, ‘There is no way them turkeys could get out!’ The door of a heavy vehicle slammed and two weary boots trudged up the dirt path around the side of the garden. ‘This ain’t gonna make it easy for the boys to load up once the carrier gets here!’ John mumbled as dragged a laden sack along the ground and up to the house. ‘Don’t you go tramplin’ my busy lizzies and getting dirt all over the kitchen, now!’ ma warned as pa continued to trudge up the steps and through the screen door. Geronimo blinked as ma ushered him away with a giggle, ‘you’ll be getting under my feet and causin’ no end of trouble G, go help pa get things ready for the carrier…’

Geronimo turned to go back into the house, but no sooner had he got to the door that ma screeched, ‘John! They’re heeeeeeeere!’ without even looking up from her flowers. There was a flurry of dust rising as a booming sound grew louder in an instant as a giant metal object descended vertically from above. Ma held on to her bonnet and tried to ignore the mess it was making of her garden. A couple of minutes later, and the cargo door opened with a creak and hiss. Ma pulled up straight, wiped her hands on her apron and then wiped her brow as she watched two burly young men run out of the bay to greet her.

‘Ma! How ya been?’ cried one of the men jovially, as he bounded up to greet his mother with a bear hug. He was broad and dark with a wide, engaging grin that showed off the dimples in the side of his face that stretched the full length of his cheeks. His skin was tanned and though he was young, he had an old knowing look in his dark brown eyes. ‘Marcus! You is nearly tipping me over! Git!!!’

‘How ya doin’, ma?’ asked the older brother, as he bent down to give his mother a kiss on the cheek and a fond embrace. He was just as tall as his brother, with the same dark looks, although he was a little thicker set, and looked as if he carried the worries of the world on his shoulders. ‘Good to have you home again, Jacob,’ said his mother tenderly, with a sympathetic smile.

‘How ya doin’ G?’ asked Marcus as he ruffled the hair on top of Geronimo’s head, ‘You gonna join us on this next trip of ours?’ Geronimo turned in distain, flicked his tail and went to investigate the interior of the cargo hold to see if the boys had brought back any gifts for him.

It was hard work being a space cat.