Homecoming

One hour across the state line back into Texas, and my phone dinged to signal a text message. “Read that for me, would you?” I tossed the phone into the backseat towards whichever twin wanted to catch and read. Cora mumbled as she read it first to herself then said, “Mom I think it’s just some spam. Someone named Carrie saying something about finding a cat? That has nothing to do with us, right?” I was focused on holding my breath against the offensive odor of northwest Texas, herds of cattle wandered in dry lots along the highway, the stench always evident before the sight of the lots themselves. “Wait, read it all out loud? A cat was found? What is the area code?” It was an Austin number. I nearly veered off the road.

One hour after crossing back into Texas for the first time in six months, and almost exactly eleven months from the day we packed the ranch and drove the animals 10 hours north, someone had scanned an orange tabby they’d been feeding for months. The someone was a neighbor of our old ranch. They had found Colby, the cat notorious for disappearing for days at a time who we left behind after being unable to find him when we moved. Unable to catch him on the weekends Jeremy returned for a month after the big move.

And one year later he reappeared.

I struggled with the thought of bringing him to New Mexico after so many months passed. It would be a cruel irony to go through all the trouble if he were to just be bullied away by his previous friends that moved together last year. Would they remember each other? Probably not, it seemed unlikely. He had grown up in the woods where he was found, so why tear him from the only places he’d known since his rescuer was willing to keep him? It was tempting to just thank her for the update, send along food and vet care money and feel happy he was alive and well. But leaving Colby behind had eaten me with guilt for a year, felt like a final string left untied. An end that was loose, a responsibility unfulfilled. I had to do what I’d dreaded for a year: return to the scene of all our crimes and heartaches and joys and successes. I had to go back to Bee Tree and bring Colby home.

It only made sense to wait to retrieve him until the day before returning to New Mexico. During my week back in Texas, I worried over the return. While I wouldn’t be stepping foot onto the old ranch itself, I’d be just next door. In fact the old property wrapped around and up to the back of the home where Colby had been fed for the past many months. The woods were the same, the streets leading up to her road would be the ones I traveled daily. The park nearby where we sat in the car and talked about buying those original 15 acres 17 years ago, would be along the way. The memories still too tender and heavy, the heaviness of so many big decisions I still carry more as burden than blessing. I didn’t know if I’d crumble beneath the weight of seeing it all again.