Gently, fall crept in through the edge of summer. Quietly, softly, felt only in early mornings and lavender dusks. Squirrels toiled endlessly in the trees and on the ground, while quick birds of the evening called out to one another. There was a certain hush in the air, a kind of waiting sound. Martha and her Persian cat, Lilliot, sat by the burn barrel while letters and bills became orange flames, disolving grayly into a multilayered sky.
Autumn teased, while landscapers and fishermen sweated and cursed the sun as it drained their life force. Lilliot jumped up into Martha’s lap, purring, wanting attention. Martha absent-mindedly stroked Lilliot’s soft fur and talked to her in hushed tones. Soon, they heard Willie’s truck pull up in the driveway. Willie was Martha’s older brother. Together, they had moved into their mother’s ancient cracker house after she passed away.
Willie hauled off trash for people who lived outside the city limits and had no garbage service. He was a small, wiry man who lived by his wits and his entrepreneurial spirit. Feisty to a fault, but a gentleman nevertheless, he was well-liked in the community. Martha was bent over and disabled by hereditary arthritis. But, being strong willed, she managed to get around remarkably well. She was short, plump, and legendary for her cooking skills. Lilliot had belonged to their mother, providing great comfort to the elderly woman in her last days. Soon, it was dark and the two siblings got up to go inside, followed by the cat. When they got to the porch, Lilliot jumped up on the porch swing and nestled herself down on a pillow, purring loudly.
“Strange how that cat loves the swing so much. I guess it’s because mother sat out here every evening with her, listening to crickets and watching the neighbors,” Martha remarked.
“Yes. Sometimes I think Lilliot is waiting for her to come sit by her like she used to,” Willie agreed.
“Sad, but at least she has us now,” Martha sighed. Indeed, the old lady had slipped away into the next world with Lilliot right next to her one evening in late summer as they sat on the swing.
By the time they finished supper and cleaned up the kitchen, a full moon began to rise. A fiery, irridescent explosion of light bathed the earth in its magical shine, causing dogs to howl and folks to wake from sleep. Martharead her romance novel, while Willie snuck out back to smoke his pipe.
When Martha got up to get a drink of water, she smelled the pungent aroma of pipe tobacco wafting in through the windows. “He’s smoking again,” she thought as she walked out into the back yard. And sure enough, there he was - puffing away. He quickly put the pipe out and shuffled over to where Martha stood glowering at him.
“You are gonna turn what’s left of them teeth pure yellow smoking that thing,” she fussed.
And as they stood there, arguing about his pipe, they heard a creaking sound. “I’ll swannee that’s the porch swing,” Willie blurted out.
“But there’s no wind tonight to blow it back and forth,” Martha added. So they rounded the corner to see who was rocking the swing. There was Lilliot, purring contentedly as the porch swing rocked itself. Brother and sister looked at each other, their eyes shining with the light of understanding. Lilliot purred even louder as the swing moved gently back and forth in soft moonlight.
