The porch creaked under Luther’s weight as he sat on the top step with one leg perched under him for support and the other lazily stretched out spanning the other four steps. He was a tall, thick man and he made everything around him look miniature as he now did with the stairs and porch. It had been about 30 minutes since he arrived and he hoped to avoid going inside a bit longer. The guilt was overwhelming and everything in him told him to race back to his rented car and drive right back to the airport.

He passed some time by nervously picking at a spot on his right knuckle. Jenny, his wife, called that his worry spot. If she were here now, she would gently cover this spot with her hand to stop him from messing with it, but he had not allowed her to come. This was his responsibility. This was his family. Luther turned his hands over and looked at the palms, comparing how much lighter and tan they were to the dark sable skin on the other side. He looked beyond his hands out into Granny Byrd’s small yard. This little patch of earth was her favorite spot to be. Now the grass was so overgrown that it didn’t look like a yard, it looked like a tiny wheat field. It bothered him that no one had mowed it for her and that her last days were probably spent wishing she had her lawn mowed. It was hard for him to criticize anyone since he had not been to this porch in seven years and hadn’t mowed this yard himself in nine years.

Seven years ago he sat in this same spot and visited with Byrdie. At that time she was 84 years old and Luther was in a hurry. He was always in a hurry and Byrdie never was. He sat and visited with her and he now wished he would have given her his full attention instead of thinking about how much work he had to do and about the plans he and Jenny had for that evening. They seemed so important that day, but he couldn’t even remember what they were now. Byrdie spent all of her time on this porch. As soon as there was daylight, she would rush outside to sit and soak up the sunshine. She had a few tin bowls out on the porch that she scooped cat food into for all the cats she visited with as they stopped by to grab a bite throughout the day. The neighbors complained that she was attracting strays to the area that were multiplying and infesting the place with dirty cats, but she never stopped. Luther assumed this cat food out in the sunshine all day with dried little bits from the day before was the reason it smelled so bad on her porch. Even though he loved Granny Bryd, he hated to sit out on this porch. All he could think about while he was there was everywhere else he was supposed to be.

Now that she was gone this all seemed different. He was here now to watch her be placed in the ground and Luther wished he could have one more conversation with her. He wished he had been a better grandson. It was probably hard for anyone else to understand, but he really did love the woman. She was a light to him. Someone that loved him regardless of the stupid choices he made or how little he showed that he loved her back. Even if he only saw her for a moment, she always told him how proud she was of him. Byrdie had great stories to tell that would capture his attention away from his rushed life even if it were only for a moment. Once she started into a tale of days past, he was hooked. He really loved it when she told stories of her life with his Grandpa Earl. She met Earl Ramsey in the factory that they both worked at in when she was 24 and they both continued to work at the same place for almost 40 years. He couldn’t imagine having Byrdie’s life. The same job, the same town and even the same house for almost 70 years. Grandpa Earl died when Luther was only 10 years old. Byrdie seemed like an old woman to him even then, but she still lived another 25 years without him. There was no chance Byrdie was going to love another man. Grandpa Earl was the only man for her.

She had lived through a time of great intolerance and she barely seemed to notice. She simply sat on her porch feeding cats and chatting with people who walked down the street. It was hard to picture her as the young mother of three kids. In the pictures she looked like a very plain woman with an intense sparkle in her eye. She always wore her hair smoothed down and squeezed into a little ponytail that barely fit into the black rubber band that held it in place. Little jagged spikes of hair shot out of it with varying lengths that never were longer than an inch. He imagined that if she were to wear it loose, she would have hundred of tiny curls, but they were glued down causing little waves along her head. He had never seen her or even a picture of her with her hair another way. Luther was only 35 and he now had such short hair that he might as well shave it off, but he had many hairstyles in his life. Thinking about the giant afro he sported when he was in his early twenties made him smile. His girlfriend talked him into dreading it up after a few weeks, but it was a fun while it lasted. At one time he thought he could never be that unchanged, he could never commit to the same thing everyday for the rest of his life. Jenny was the most consistent thing in his life and they had been together for nine years now. She had moved around with him for the first few years, but now they had lived in the same house for 6 years and she was going to have his baby in only a few weeks.

He had meant to call and tell Byrdie about the baby coming, but he never had time. It was going to be her first great grand baby and he knew she would have been thrilled. Now that he was here and taking his time about going inside he realized there were plenty of chances he could have called and talked to her, but it was too late. She was gone.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, “Luther Ramsey, how long you been here, Baby? Come inside, we’ve got all kinds of good food cookin’ and your mama is here too.” His aunt Carmen had discovered him, so his hope for escape was gone. Now Luther would have to go in and face these people he had not made time for in seven years.