from the gate to the porch

As usual I am standing at the top of the steps on the front porch, looking straight ahead at the gate at the end of the walkway between gate and porch. Three steps and you land on the first of seven concrete slabs with little criss-cross designs on them. Pretty drab and more than average.

Patches of pennyroyal are edging their way onto the slabs. They are trimmed often to keep them from taking over, but mom likes them creeping up just a bit, so when someone accidentally steps on some leaves it releases an herblike sweet fragrance.

I shut my eyes and wait for my watch to beep the hour and when it does I open my eyes again. He stands there, right on time, one hand on the gate and the other giving a slight wave. I motion a wave and smile back at him.

When he opens the gate it does not squeak. You half expect this kind of gate to squeak but it doesn’t. The gardener keeps it greased. He keeps everything greased. He dislikes squeaks.

The gate is wide open and he gives his first step onto the first concrete slab leading my way and in my head I think, here we go again.

As he turns to close the gate it begins. I know what is coming and I can do nothing but watch and urge him on. I wish it could be easier, but there is just no way around this walk.

The concrete starts bubbling swamp like underneath his flip-flops and then he begins to sink into it. It happens quickly, but its not exactly sucking him in, he can still pull his feet out.

He turns back to me and I see that he is frightened. It’s always like this, always the same.

“Start running!” I shout, motioning my way.

He lifts up his right foot and gives a step forward, just as the swampy concrete reaches above his ankle. He gives a big step onto the next slab, but this one is already bubbling quite a bit and immediately his foot sinks in up to his calve. He brings his left foot over and this one sinks just as deep.

My stomach is churning. Usually the second slab is easy.

He is looking around him at the hissing pennyroyal. They lash out at him and he needs to wave wildly with his arms to keep them at bay. He pulls his legs from the slab and onto the next one. The mud drips from his legs and still the pennyroyal keeps on hissing and lashing, exposing their sharp teeth.

The slab is an unstable raft and he is trying to keep his balance. From the lawn comes creeping a large crocodile. He does not attack, but he stays close, watching the situation with enthusiastic eyes. If he falls off the raft he becomes brunch. He also sees the crocodile staring at him.

“Keep your balance and jump. You’re almost halfway here.” My hands are frantically going over each other as I step from side to side. The crocodile is making me nervous.

He gets himself steadied and jumps onto Solid Concrete Slab #4.

“Hurry,” I shout, “before they come!”

He gives a leap and today he completely misses the next slab and steps with one foot on the sixth one and the other right into the hissing pennyroyal. They squeal menacingly and bite at his ankle. He is slapping at them as he brings the other foot onto the slab too. There are tiny scratches on his ankles and he scratches at them. I know they sting and itch something terribly.

He is still scratching wildly when a vulture begins to circle his head. If he does not hurry the vulture will uncharacteristically pick him up and try to fly him to his nest.

With wild arm movements I try to shoo the vulture away, but whatever I do make no difference. The vulture is not even aware of me. It’s just the two of them.

He acts quickly, bending down and snapping a handful of the pennyroyal and throwing it at the vulture. They manage to leave their mark on his hand and wrist, but his plan worked. The moment they hit the vulture’s body the bite into it and the vulture flaps wildly away trying to shake the pennyroyal from him.

I am jumping up and down. There is one slab left and then onto the porch. And the next one is relatively easy, if you’re quick. But now with his one foot full of bites I don’t know.

He is fine for the moment and he steps onto the last slab. Over the pennyroyal and onto the steps and all will be fine. But he hesitated to scratch at his wrist where he got bitten and the next moment he is in the maelstrom spinning round and round. This is the only time when I can help.

I look around me on the porch for something to hold out to him, something he can grab onto, but there is nothing.

“Swim against the current, I must look in the house.”

I come out moments later with the big black umbrella in my hands. I jump down to the last step and hold it out for him. Four times he spins past me, but the fifth time he grabs hold of the umbrella, and I almost lose my balance. I plant my feet further apart and begin to pull him out of the water. When he is close enough he grabs my left arm with his right and then with both and the next moment he is on the bottom step with me. Coughing and completely soaked.

He is exhausted and I pull him up onto the porch laying his head on my lap. His breathing is rushed. I stroke his wet hair and look out to the path. The sun shines in my eyes making my nose twitch. I give a big sneeze.

And we are standing on the porch. It is all over, no sign of the drama that just took place. He looks at me and says “I cannot give any clear answers, but let’s hope.”

I take a deep breath through my nose when he squeezes my hand and it all smells of pennyroyal.