Lolly started it all by catching my eye. Normally when you cat-watch in the garden, though, you don’t see it disappear and reappear. I thought I was going lockdown crazy. Little did I know.
He had come over the fence, lolled about a bit, gone under the trampoline and disappeared into the long grass and shadows before dropping once more from the fence. This time he didn’t stay, heading straight home by avoiding the trampoline, giving its underside a scowl and a rough purr as he passed.
Intrigued, I got up, slowly, awkwardly, and went to take a look. The whole garden from the trampoline onwards - the swing set, the playhouse - had not been touched since the first days, since..
Weeks alone had taken their toll. I was breathing heavily, a strange feeling filling my mind, had it ever been this hard to walk down the garden before?
There were certainly never the shadows before. Every step made my head buzz with memories of the parties, play, games, laughter that had occurred once, before I restricted my view almost entirely to the patio.
I bent down, chest complaining, brow pouring, and began to crawl under the trampoline where the cat had been.
I saw them and crawled forward, not quite reaching before returning to the start.
I saw them and crawled forward, not quite reaching before returning to the start.
I saw them and crawled forward, not quite reaching before returning to the start.
I saw them and crawled forward
Written for and entered into the Bridport Prize in 2020. Forgotten about until today.
