“Jilly go outside and play. Stop moping around the house.”
Jilly flops down on the top step of the porch and looks up and down the street. There isn’t anyone in sight.
The boarded windows of the house across the street are tagged with graffiti. Broken bottles, beer cans, and trash are strewn across the overgrown, dead lawn in the front yard. The steps are covered with yellowed newspapers in various stages of decay. Unopened mail tumbles out of the rusty mailbox. The sad truth is it isn’t the only house on the block that looks abandoned. This neighborhood is the poster child for urban blight.
Jilly isn’t shocked or disturbed by the condition of the neighborhood. She has grown up in similar neighborhoods, some worse than this one. This is her third foster placement in the last year. She had to be moved here because her last foster mother overdosed and was taken away in an ambulance.
Sadly, this isn’t the first experience that Jilly had with junky foster parents. It was just the latest edition to a long line of looser adults that promised redemption but delivered empty promises.
Jilly’s glad that she had finished the second grade before being moved to this new place. Unfortunately, now she doesn’t know any of the kids in this neighborhood because she didn’t attend school here. It was a Catch-22 situation.
Something is tickling her foot. She looks down to discover a black ant marching across her feet and into a crack between the bricks on the steps. The ant is soon followed by several more of his six-legged comrades.
As she watches the ants as they hurry along the step and over to a discarded crust of bread. Each one of the ants picks up an immense portion of the crust and carries it just as quickly back to the crack in the step and down into their tunnel.
Jilly is so entranced by the activity of ants she doesn’t notice a cat that struts on the sidewalk in front of the house and down the street. Until he lets out a loud yowl as he passes the rusted gate.
She looks up and sees him. He’s staring right at her as he yowls again. It almost seems as if he’s calling out to her. She reluctantly leaves the ants to go and meet the cat.
She wrenches open the rusty gate and steps onto the sidewalk. Jilly leans down and scratches his head. She notices that the cat has scars and is missing patches of fur from his face and all the way down to his long-broken tail.
“Hi, kitty, what’s your name? My name is Jilly. I just moved here yesterday. Where do you live?”
The cat swishes his tail back and forth and continues his walk down the street. He looks back at Jilly one last time as he moves forward. Jilly calls out, “wait, wait for me.”
The cat walks pass two houses and then stops in front of a big old house that has a wide wrap around porch in front. It’s the only house on the block that looks as if someone cares about it.
The grass is cut and there isn’t any trash in the yard. There are flowers growing all along the white picket fence that surrounds the front yard. There’s an arbor that’s covered in climbing red roses. It smells like heaven.
Jilly is startled when the cat meows again loudly. A very old woman comes to the door. She’s wearing a long-flowered dress and has white hair pulled tightly back in a bun.
“Good morning Frank. I’ll be right out. Sorry I overslept this morning.”
Jilly looks around the yard she can’t believe how beautiful it is. How different from all the other houses and yards on the street. She looks over at the cat and he’s rolling on the grass. Then he starts grooming himself. He licks his paws and then washes his face and whiskers.
Jilly laughs at him. “So, your name is Frank.” Jilly walks over to Frank. And he allows her to stroke his head and scratch behind his ears.
The old woman walks carefully down the porch steps holding onto the railing with one hand with a dish in the other. “Well, who might you be? I see you’ve made friends with Frank. He’s a wonderful friend to have. He and I have known each other for many years.”
“Hi, my name is Jilly. I just moved into the house down the street. The one on the corner with the old fence around it.”
“Did you, and how do you like living there?”
“Like living there? Well, I don’t know. I just moved here a couple of days ago. I guess it’s all right. I have my own bed this time. And Mrs. P that’s the foster mom hasn’t yelled at me or hit me so far. And she cooks things besides macaroni and cheese out of the box. So that’s better than the last place I lived it. And I don’t think she’s a doper. So that’s good too I guess.”
“Oh, I see, well it’s nice to meet you, Jilly. And how did you meet my friend Frank here?”
“Well I was just sitting on the step watching the ants and he came walking by. He called out to me to follow him. And here I am.”
“Well Jilly, I’m so happy Frank brought you over for a visit. I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Mrs. McFarland. Would you like to come sit up on the porch and have some lemonade and cookies? I just made them and was about to have my afternoon snack?”
“Cookies, yes I would love some.”
“Well, Jilly have a seat. Let me give Frank his lunch and then I’ll go get our snack. You can sit right there at the rattan table and chairs. I’ll be right back.”
Jilly watches as Mrs. McFarland puts Frank’s dish on the sidewalk and whispers something in his ear. Then she stands upright and walks back to the steps and into the house. As she opens the screen door she looks over at Jilly and gives her a warm smile. “I’ll be right back Jilly.”
Jilly watches the door afraid that Mrs. McFarland won’t come back out again but then she hears her say, “Jilly dear could you open the door for me?”
Jilly jumps up so quickly she almost topples the rattan chair. She pulls open the screen door and holds it back. She peeks into the house and sees a beautiful old piano and overstuffed chairs and a red velvet couch. There’s a wonderful glass lamp next to it that has pansies painted on the lampshade. Jilly has never seen such a place in her life.
“Well, here we go Jilly. Have a seat, I hope you like these cookies. They’re chocolate chip with coconut. And here my dear is the fresh lemonade, enjoy.”
Jilly looks down at the cookies and the frosted lemonade glass. She feels like she’s died and gone to heaven. She doesn’t ever remember having homemade cookies before. She takes one bite. It’s so delicious she can’t help but eat the whole cookie.
“Jilly dear, slow down. We have all the time in the world. Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I would love to know all about you.”
“You would?” Jilly can hardly believe her ears. No one has ever asked her anything about herself or listened when she tried to tell them anything. As Jilly starts telling Mrs. McFarland about the second grade Frank comes up on the porch and lies down next to Jilly’s feet.
Jilly leans down and pats his head as if she has been doing it all her life. She can hear Frank purring softly. She looks over at Mrs. McFarland and she has a sweet smile on her face. Jilly is finally here, she has found her home.
“Oh, these cookies are the best I’ve ever had. Can I have more lemonade?”
“Of course, you can.” Mrs. McFarland sits back in her chair and says softly,” continue on with what you were saying, Jilly.”
