Wildflowers

Chapter 26- Cattle

Alexandra, August 12th

It's Saturday afternoon when we're sitting in a bus, waiting for our arrival to a place that holds importance in my childhood, that no longer is a place where I belong. Often I doubt I ever did.

After she died, my grandmother, she bequeathed her house and land to her youngest child, my uncle. One thing that people obsess over is money, he wasn't any better.
Perhaps it was to get back what was before, a long time ago, he established a nature park/animal farm like place.

My mamma's home is now a tourist attraction. Her soul is prisoner between strangers.

Visitors can go, walk around, see different animals, enjoy forest life and what else for money, especially if you want to spend the night in a guest house.

For me, as a family, though we never really kept in contact, the stay is for free, and my Millie is my guest.

I almost vomited out of adrenaline or whatnot when he told me wanted me for real.

Boyfriends, partners, I never had one until Myles, and I haven't concluded how to feel. Myles makes me feel safe and free, like I don't have to try to fit in, don't have to pretend for him to want and to like me. For all I know, he's just a sick weirdo like me and we get one another, easily.

Stepping out of the bus in a stop by a rotten bench and a faded sign, like few last times I have come her after years, I'm almost disappointed when the feeling isn't the same.

There is not the stench of cow dung I used to hate so much as a kid and what I used mock over all my childhood. The cowshed is right next to the road, decades old. There is no agitated excitement to get to see the people down the hill.

So, I smile at Myles, who is looking around everywhere as we walk down the road to certain tree. There's not much to see, but if you're here for the first time, you want to see around.

An old apple tree signals the dirt road we have to turn left to. It hasn't rained in days, so it's not muddy, the overgrown grass and wildflowers grow at the sided of the road, down the hill. 

The walk is like any other when in countryside, visitors get here by car. It takes us shortly ten minutes before we're at the entrance, the sounds of sheep's and mountain cattle's welcoming us.

"Not the cows," Myles snaps his fingers once, as if trying to remember, "cattle?"

"Smart boy" I nod.

I could kiss him right now for no reason.

Walking in the gate, the road continues, but instead on both sides enclosures side it, big hairy dudes and girls- cattle- behind them.

I walk up to a blondie, my favourite from my last visit here, Patty is his name. Patty walks closer and I pat his nose, his horn stabbing me in the arm as he shakes his head and walks away.

"Patty is my favourite, he's the only one who's blonde" Do you even call animals blond and brunette?

"Patty is a He?"

I shrug. I didn't name them.

A large garden with flower beds, greenhouses and plant furrows surrounds the house on the right, to the left is a two-story guest house. My aunt, the oldest of seven siblings, who moved here from the city to help his brother out greets us.

When I came here six years after my grandmother's death, a two years ago, she smothered me with hugs and questions about my life, comments how she had missed me and how much I have grown. Now, after we left on a bad note the years ago I visited, she merely greets us and tells me to show my guy around.