More Than Clutter-The Junkyard of My Life

Prompt: Start or end your story with a character closing a door, literally or metaphorically.  

More Than Clutter- the Junkyard of My Life

The APS agents were at my doorstep. With the security chain link still attached to the door, I cautiously cracked it open. I knew why they were here.

One of the agents said, “Mam, we’re here from the Adult Protection Service. You are being served an abatement order to clean up your property outside your house. You have one week to comply with this writ or else face fines and possible eviction from your home.”

I countered with, “You are supposed to protect me! Stop harassing me! Give me the order and get the hell off my property.”

The agent held it up to the opening. I grabbed the envelope and slammed the door in his face.

His parting words through the door were, “I’ll be back for an update in about five days. At that time if progress is being made there could be an opportunity to grant you more time. But only on the condition if the inside of your residence is deemed livable.”

I cursed him and then I slumped down with my back against the door. As tears streamed down my face, I whispered over my shoulder as though my late husband was still beside me.

“Oh, pity me! Harriet, what have I gotten myself into? Frank, if you were still here you would know what to do.  I miss you so much! You did everything for me. You were my rock. I am so beside myself. Nothing has changed since that awful day you died. Our yard, our house, my life, all have become chaotic without you.”

Breathing a bit harder I said, “That no good Gladys is responsible for this! She’s always wanted to marry you. It’s been eight years since you’ve been gone and she still wants to get revenge on me. You would never think that when you were alive, we had been best of friends. Now she’s nothing more than a self-centered harlot!”

I began to ruminate about the past. For eight years I have turned my house into a prison living in solitary confinement. I manage to get by on my disability and Frank’s small pension. My only touch with the outside world is through the internet with my old flip phone. Even then, I use it only for grocery delivery and paying the utility bills. I think my house, my yard and my mind all spiraled downward into a ruinous cavern.

But about two years ago one day I actually had a surge of energy with an impulse to go to the grocery store. It was a horrible mistake and that decision drove me into the despair and depression I now feel. Of all things, I ran into Gladys with one of her aging cronies. Our initial encounter was non-threatening until she spewed out,

“Oh, Harriet, so good you are out and about. Meet my friend Wilma.” She continued on saying to Wilma, “This is Harriet, my agoraphobic neighbor, the one who I was telling you about the other day. She’s the one who has trouble maintaining her yard and who knows what else.”

Needless to say, I was livid. We hadn’t spoken a word since that miserable day. I feared seeing her out in public. Since that time, I have had several visits from the APS to fix my yard.  But this probable visit in five days unnerved me.

If I lose the house, I have nowhere to go. My son and daughter moved to Canada. Their parting comments were, “This is tough love, Mama. Get your life together because we as sure as hell can’t help you. It’s not like we tried. We will no longer be enablers to your hoarding and self-pity!”

I pulled myself off the floor. I took survey of my living room. I saw them all as having some kind of memory attached to them. There were stacks of old newspapers, magazines and paper piled up to the ceiling. Empty food containers and soda cups were scattered across the room. Some contained rotten food. Clothes littered the chairs and sofa. Cardboard boxes were strewn about the room. The air was stale and musty. Unopened mail lay on my desk along with stacks of books, old photos and all sorts of advertising flyers. I could hardly walk through the maze of junk. The spectacle of strewn trash littered the single hallway and the other two rooms.  The bathroom was not an option for me anymore because the doorway was blocked by mounds of newspaper and junk. I chided myself asking was this really just the rubbish?

I abruptly sat down again knowing that it was futile to make it anywhere else but the center of the living room. The contents of my pockets also fell to the floor, including my flip phone and my wallet. I sobbed and tears flowed. My tears were the only liquid I had to quench my thirst. I could not reach the faucet in the kitchen. I became an island amidst my own wretched lifestyle. The things I held onto for security were destined to stifle the life out of me. 

My thoughts drifted as I became weary from a lack of nourishment. Like the faucet, I was blocked from getting any food from the refrigerator. Five days would be an eternity yet fleeting if I could not sustain my life without food and water. My head fell to my chest.

My head popped up when I heard a growling noise close to me.  I was startled because dusk had fallen and the house was getting dark inside. At first, I thought it was my stomach making the noise.I groped around me feeling for a flashlight or a candle. I pushed aside some smelly rubble finding half a candlestick that I still had from a dinner party years ago. I pulled my cigarettes out hoping I still had my lighter or matches.Fortunately, I did have a few matches.

I struck one matchstick against the flint strip on the cover. A fizzle and pop. I quickly lit the candle and then a cigarette. I used to never smoke when Frank was alive. Somehow, I thought I could hasten my demise by getting lung cancer.What’s the point to living, I’d often ask myself. My nights were lonely. I cling to worthless objects. My behavior chased my kids away to another country. To Canada of all places. It’s such a cold, wild place. Why not Bermuda or the Maldives. Those places would be an incentive to go and visit them.

I heard another noise, like a scurrying of an animal or maybe a group of them. Vicious rats may have infiltrated my domicile. I could be eaten alive and no one would know for five days, I anxiously thought to myself. I yelped hoping they would go away. At least for the moment the scuttling noise stopped.

My head ached. My stomach was nauseous. My body was quivering in fear. My mind was full of junk. My thoughts were one piece of refuse upon another piece of refuse. The junkyard of my life has overtaken me. I could take the rest of the matches and set the house ablaze. It would be five days before anyone would miss me. And if I didn’t die, I would be suffering the whole time. In agony. In a terrible agony with burns covering my body.  I’d likely come in and out of consciousness. That would just not do as a way out. Maybe if I squirm my way to a kitchen cabinet, I could find some toxic chemical to drink. If I could only reach the medicine cabinet in the bathroom I could swallow a few pills. But I can’t! I can’t!

The junkyard of my mind is ready to explode from more toxic gas thinking of ways to end my suffering and to obliterate myself. I reached out into the dark murk that was beside me. I felt some paper like a small book. It was an old journal I had kept up until Frank, and I celebrated our fortieth wedding anniversary. We both were astounded that we had been married that long. I read the first page out loud:

“So then, they are no longer two but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, let not man separate.” (1)

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” (2)

“Now may the God of hope fill you will all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (3)

“But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (4)

After reading this aloud I felt a surge of energy fill my body. I struggled to get, up but in doing so I fell hitting my head.

The nurse and doctor told me in the hospital I suffered a concussion and was severely malnourished. They said if I had not landed on top of my flip phone for the emergency call button, I would have eventually perished in a possible fire started by a smoldering candle. Your friend, Gladys, also called 911. Gladys, in fact, is over at your house with a huge crew of neighbors cleaning up your yard and the inside of your house at this very moment.

Now a few weeks later, I am headed over to visit my friend Gladys. As I closed the door to my newly renovated house, I am reminded of this verse from my journal:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. (5)

-END-

NKJV=New King James Version

NLT=New Living Translation

Matthew 19:6, NKJV

Jeremiah 29:11, NLT

Romans 15: 13, NKJV

Isaiah 40:31, NKJV

Proverbs 3:5, NKJV

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsyprompts.com