I’ve come out to the back yard for some peace and quiet in my get-away by the old fence behind the house. Someone painted it turquoise years ago, and now it leans tiredly forward, sagging and scarred. I don’t think it’s been painted since it was built.
“Are you a mother?” The voice is small, light and young, and it comes from behind the fence. I look up from my book, wondering who is speaking and where they are.
Two intense green eyes peer at me through a hole in the fence. The Davies live next door, and I remember they have 5 foster kids. Marge is round and jolly, Glen tall and lean. There is always a lot of laughter and noise coming over the fence. They seem happy, a close and loving family.
“Am I a mother?” I ask. “I am. My son is married.”
“Then you have grandchildren?” she asks.
“Two grandsons. They live in Texas.”
“Are you lonely? Do you need another kid?”
“Well, I’m probably too old for more kids. I like them though. I’m not really married now.”
Silence across the fence. Two huge almost-turquoise eyes study me. “People can have kids when they’re older, and they don’t have to be married.”
I don’t have an answer to this.
“What are you reading?” The eyes study me intently, unblinking and serious.
“The Gallic Wars,” I reply.
“Why?”
“I’m not even sure,” I answer sheepishly. “My grandmother taught Latin.”
“I need a family.”
“Don’t you have one?” I ask.
No answer.
“I mean, besides the Davies?”
“I’m only here until the judge decides if I have to go back.”
Long silence.
“Does your family want you?”
“It’s just my father. He did bad things. I’m afraid of him.”
“Maybe Marge and Glenn will let you stay with them,” I say hopefully.
More silence.
“Only for now. I never stay anywhere long. They’ll just send me back… Unless someone wants me.”
“I’m too old to be a mother,” I try to explain.
No response. The eyes disappear from the fence hole. But I know she’s still there.
“We could be friends,” I offer. You can come over and visit.”
Another silence…
“I can’t use friends,” she finally says. “But thank you anyway.”
