Journal of a Living Lady #86

Nancy White Kelly

 

It was a dark and rainy night. Dutifully I went outside to check on the goats, chickens, ducks, and lone guinea before calling it a day. The pygmy goats were in the over-sized dog house. A couple of hens and the guinea were high and dry in the barn. The rooster and other hens were roosting in the trees ignoring the drizzle.

 

The critters were safe so I hoofed it back into the house. A few more check points and I could finally head to bed.

 

A brief email confirmed Charlie was back at school. Oppie, our Chihuahua, was under her afghan in the den. Snowball, our recently adopted white cat, was snoozing at the foot of the bed. In the spare bedroom, the thirty-six incubating chicken and guinea eggs were at just the right temperature. All was well with the world. At least I thought so.

 

I put on my pajamas, downed my medicines, and climbed into bed. The last thing I remember as I drifted off to sleep was hearing Buddy turning on the shower and the rings on the shower bar curtain being pulled shut.

 

The telephone by the side of the bed rang. I groped for the phone and struggled to place it the proper end to my ear.

 

“Hello,” I answered, trying to sound awake and pleasant.

 

A gruff voice proceeded. “This is the police. We are in  your drive-way. Please go to the door and let us in.”

 

I stumbled down the hall to the front door. I fumbled nervously with the lock. Flashing his badge, one of the officers asked if this was the Kelly household. I answered in the affirmative, fearfully anticipating what was next.

 

Then it seemed as if a thousand flood lights illuminated the house. The whole front yard was full of happy people carrying balloons. They rushed the porch steps. Leading the crowd was a large man carrying a brightly-colored package.

 

Buddy gently nudged me back to the edge of the mattress as he climbed into bed himself.

“You were talking in your sleep,” he said as he adjusted his pillow, the bedspread, and the cat.

 

“You interrupted my dream,” I mumbled. “Now I will never know what was in the package.” He didn’t understand and didn’t bother to answer.

 

I drifted off to sleep again, but the dream never picked up where it left off. I don’t remember anything else except the rooster crowing at daybreak.

 

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nancyk@alltel.net            https://www.angelfire.com/bc/nancykelly