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by Squeak Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #1812169
How do you make a house your own home? Entry for Writer's Cramp.
         I jumped as fur brushed my bare legs and looked down to see a tail curling around my ankle. It was day three of Captain Fergus being apart of our family and it amazed me that this cat could sneak up on me. Every other time he meowed like it was going out of style or was under my feet ready to trip me. Perhaps this was a sign that he was settling in and might have some skills to take care of our rodent problem. I had spotted fresh mouse droppings in the attic shortly after arriving here and there was no way I was living in a mouse infested house.

         I finished spreading grape jelly on my toast before scooping the tiny black kitten up. When we went to the Humane Society in search of a real mouse hunter we were assured this tiny fuzz ball would work wonders. Getting the kitty home we decided that a small cat with an important job needed a name demanding respect, so Captain Fergus he became. I carried the cat to the door and let him outside to do his business while I ate my toast and stared out to a yard that remained foreign to me.

         I watched to make sure our hero of a cat didn’t wander past the fence but I wasn’t seeing the fence, or the cat. I could see my husband holding the hand of his dying grandfather, Opa. Hands of which had been frail for as long as I had known Opa and yet so full of life. He could tell tales with those hands as they danced through the air holding your attention until the final moment. And what a storyteller he was as well as an amazing baker. He could create delicacies that you couldn’t find anywhere else. Those hands were so full of magic, so full of life and yet I had been there when there was no life left in those hands.

         We had done as he wished and he had been able to pass his final days in this very house. The heart attack had taken so much from him and we all knew he would not be coming out of it this time. Those last few days were on the verge of loathsome and very difficult but somehow we stayed strong together. Then time went from slow motion to fast forward in a day. Opa had passed away. The family said their goodbyes then left. Then it was getting the death certificate, reading of the will, hearing the expected words that my husband and I inherited this house. In a day this house went from a place of death to a place of repair. There was painting to do and plumbing fixtures to replace and more painting to do. I had thrown myself into the rush of remodeling and just now felt like I was coming up for air only to find a lingering haze. Had it only been a month since Opa had been greeting Josef and I at this very door with a tray full of freshly baked candies? Indeed it had.

         Today we would begin to move our own furniture to this house and then it would be official. We would really be living here, permanently. Up until this time it had been one big remodel job but now it was real. This house would be our home, but to me it would always be Opa’s. We had known this would be our house one day, we had always known that. I hadn’t understood how this would feel. Feeling like I might turn to find Opa telling me just one more story about his schooldays, or the war, or how Josef used to sneak the last candy when he was a boy.

         Again I jumped as fur scampered past my ankles and looked back in time to see Captain Fergus running off down the hallway. At least somebody was happy to call this house home. The sound of gravel crunching under tires brought my attention back outside to see Josef pulling up.

“Mmmmm, I can smell the sweet aroma from here,” I called.

“It’s pretty bad when I can walk into Starbucks and they have our order ready to go,” Josef laughed. Our cappuccino maker was still at our old apartment and had been taking turns running into town to get coffee every other day.

“What took you so long then?” I demanded playfully as he handed me a mochaccino.

“Well, I thought we needed something to make this house more festive and I know how much you love Fall so…” and Josef handed me his cup as well before running back to the car.

         From the trunk he began pulling things out and rushing to set them on the porch before running back to the trunk for another. I couldn’t help but feel giddy as a child. First he had a pumpkin, then a fall wreath for the door, a stuffed scarecrow, a second pumpkin and finally a bouquet of sunflowers for inside.

“I figured we already had the black cat so now we are all set,” he said as he traded me the bouquet for his coffee.

         I was smiling so much it took effort to stop laughing long enough to kiss my wonderful husband. We stood together looking at our now festive house to see that where before it had been dark; the orange and yellow hues brought it back to life. Bursting with life of his own, we watched as Captain Fergus bounded off the porch towards us.

“Look, he actually got a mouse!” Josef exclaimed.

         I laughed out loud as the mouse dangled from his mouth and gave Josef a squeeze. A great mouse hunter, new decorations and a man that could always make me smile. Yes there was hope, and life and a chance to move on and make this house our home. I was sure of it now.



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