I was missing Fantasy

Somewhere behind the crack in the wooden fence, something watched us play on our scooter and chase each other around the yard. Mom scolded my sister and me when she was in her garden area, as we ran to the garden gate and tiptoed inside and stepped on her rows of newly planted sugar baby seeds, trying to get her attention.

This was the moment that Fantasy entered our lives, turning on our fascination, as we watched her creep through the tall weeds and hide behind the silver kings, waiting for us to oblige.

Mom knew she was there, so she left fresh provisions on the veranda for her to consume once she felt comfortable enough to receive them. We knew that she blessed Mom's proposals when there was nothing left over the next day.

The first time she approached me, I froze, even though it was a hot day. I wanted to touch her, but I was not yet used to her, and she was not yet used to me. She had the sweetest cry that could make a codger smile. And even though her belly bulged, she was always hungry. We dreamed of a companion, and she came. I called her Fantasy.

Mom dreamed of a beautiful garden that year. And she made sure that Fantasy ate every day in hopes that she would help make that happen. We were told that Fantasy was preparing to nest. So we were to be as gentle as possible when she was ready for us to touch her. 

The air was perfect in the spring, giving us the chance to enjoy more of Fantasy's company each day. But it also surprised us to discover how encircled we were with the high desert's natural occupants. And Mom's paradise was no exception. She understood that its precious treats were like a candy store to the nuisances of the land. And even Fantasy visited it once or twice, but Mom didn't mind her presence because she adored her. 

One day, after a couple of months had passed, Fantasy came to us noticeably meager. Mom knew the time had come. She let us play with her for a while, thinking it would be a short gathering. But when Fantasy did not express a desire to depart, Mom was quiet, and her face displayed a look of uncertainty.

Days went by with Fantasy standing by the sliding door every time noon hit, waiting for Mom to feed her and for us to come out and play with her. She loved it when we nudged her forehead with our knuckles. She purred when we stroked her tail. She rolled in the dirt whenever she wanted our affection.

It was an unusual Wednesday afternoon when Mom was alone on the veranda filling Fantasy's bowls with fresh provisions. She came right back inside and decided to wait a while before tending to her young garden, as the weather was particularly hot that day. We thought Fantasy had felt the same, so we waited to meet her in the yard once the temperature had cooled down. 

That evening, I looked out, vehemently expecting her eating right outside the veranda. But the provisions were still there. To the right, I saw Mom standing in her garden with her hands on her hips and her head down. Her sun hat hid the tears. The sprouted sugar babies were no longer there. 

Days went by. This time, they didn't carry Fantasy. But we kept good spirits. Where the sugar babies once rested, Mom finally decided to plant some Congo watermelons and two big max pumpkins by their side. That same day, my sister and I laughed together and ran back and forth through the water sprinkler in the yard until we were breathless. I took a break and sat on the swing chair on the veranda and thought to look over toward the crack in the wooden fence. I watched the tall weeds that blocked it as they rustled in the breeze. Then I started to wonder about Fantasy.

I wondered where she had buried all her litter and if she was safely nestled under someone in a place where she belonged. I thought that maybe a shelter had rescued her, not knowing that she was loved and cared for by a family that needed her, but also knew that she needed to be free. I hoped that I would see her again. 

What I knew for certain was that we were surrounded by the high desert's natural occupants, both big and small, and sometimes our dreams only existed within what we could control, and Fantasy was our dream for a moment. And I… was… missing her.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

Such a well written tale, inviting a slow, thorough read from the start. The touches of your home , the run through the sprinkler, a slow, happy life.. the coming of Fantasy, the comfort of knowing your visitor in all her natural glory. Seems you gave as much as you were given: another creature's liberty and how life should be in any of all its guises! How wonderful to be honoured in that way, to know your home and environment offered what was wanted for such a precious time. Be sure, Fantasy's departure was not an ending but.. the continuation of a story that just might be endless. Wonderful, many thank yous for sharing!

[Brandy Griffith]

Hi Emma. You are very welcome, and I'm glad you enjoyed my story. I love cats, and Fantasy definitely blessed us. Thank you so much for your lovely review and encouraging words!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I was quite taken by this. I like how you leave it to the reader to identify Fantasy on his or her own.
A real live entity? or maybe just something made up to express going through youth...the spirit of growing up and being able to care for something besides ourselves.
j.