Chuckwalla

This house was as old and forgotten as I was. Stone City, Arizona had been long abandoned. The only thing I had to keep me company were the ghosts of old friends and trailings of distant memories.

Despite the loneliness, I still got up every morning to do the same dang routine. I rounded up everything I needed, an old dress, my dust caked shoes, and my bag of gardening supplies. The coffee I heated up from last night left a distinct taste of dirt in my mouth, probably cause of how I stored the stuff. The basement wasn’t an ideal storage area. It was hard getting supplies out here, I only ran to the supermarket nearly three hours away maybe once every six months. Bought everything in bulk and it lasted long enough considering that out here it was only me, myself, and I.

Cacti stood tall in the early morning, casting long and ominous shadows. The Desert Marigolds in my front yard were looking healthy, complimented nicely by the Firecracker Penstemon. The bright orangey red flowers stood out nice and bright against the rest of my succulents. Little green and purple blobs covered the entirety of my garden. If I couldn’t be pretty, might as well grow pretty flowers. Maybe it’d leave the grandkids something to remember me by if they remember me at all.

I spent the morning in the garden before wandering around the decrepit ghost town. The old windmill creaked in the breeze that rustled the tall Desert Ironwood trees. I brewed a pot of coffee in the evening, I barely slept anymore these days. Too many things to think about and too little time to do so. Instead, I watched the sun go down and the stars rise from my back porch. My evening cigarette didn’t taste how it used to when I was young. It didn’t bring a dizzy rush to my head anymore. When I was young, my friends and I used to smoke around raging bonfires while enjoying the music of jovial guitars. The dancing and raucous jokes. I could still remember Mariah’s laugh, John’s lovely singing voice, and the constant infighting between Max and Sarah that was so typical of a young couple. But, now Mariah had retired in Florida and John had died of a heart attack nearly a decade ago. Max, Sarah, and I had been the last people left in Stone City till seven years ago. They’d been the last of my friends not to leave the little town we’d all grown up in.

But, like everyone else, they eventually left one way or another. Sarah died in her sleep, and Max passed of a broken heart less than two days after. Now, it really was just me. Even my children had moved away to start their own families. I’d been left behind like the rest of the town, an old polaroid of a time long ago discarded.

The next morning, I repeated the very same routine. Clothes, shoes, coffee, gardening. When I stepped outside, the wind was far harsher than the day prior. Even if I refused to change, the world around me stood still for no one.

A gust of wind tore through my yard, rattling the old bones of the house and raising up a small dust devil. The gritty sand whipped at my face without remorse, but I was used to that by now.

I ignored the dust storm as it slowly grew into even more of a tempest. I began to prune my Mexican Evening Primroses when I saw something that changed everything. It truly could have been inconsequential, but in that moment, I made a choice. A choice to let this change everything.

There she was; the change incarnate. She cowered under an old tree branch, big ol’ eyes staring up at me.

I nearly screamed when I saw her, stumbling back a ways.

I took a few moments to regain my breath before scooping up the poor thing. I cooed at her “What’s a baby like you doing way out here?”

She must’ve been young with how small she was, she surely couldn’t fend for herself. So, I took her inside and gave her free reign of the home. It took me a long time to figure out what on Earth to feed her. First I tried some microwaved frozen chicken, to which she turned her head away in disgust. Then I tried some crickets I’d found in the corner of my closet. She only ate one before closing her little eyes and shuffling away. I’d nearly given up that first night and just let her back outside to die. Deep in my heart, I knew I couldn’t do that. When it was time to feed myself, I dug a spoon into a can of peas for dinner. She nearly threw my spoon to the floor in her rush to eat some of them. Turned out she loved veggies, far more than I did. Soon, I was splitting a can of kale or a bag of carrots with her for each meal. As she grew a little bigger, she’d join me in the garden, watching me intently as I worked. Occasionally she’d even munch on some of my plants. At first I scolded her, but eventually just began to laugh. Her company was worth a few marigolds. That’s what decided to name her: Marigold.

We spent evenings inside, I’d read using my broken, flickering lamp. Marigold would sit on my shoulder and stare blankly at each page. We’d often sit on the porch while I enjoyed a cigarette and she would watch the smoke disperse off into the sunset. It almost felt as though I was sitting around those bonfires all over again. Except this time, it was a little more peaceful.

Sometimes, late in the night I’d hear her skittering about the house. She didn’t exactly have one area she lived in, but nor did she choose to leave. Perhaps she appreciated the home and I more than her cold-blooded expressions lead on.

Several months later, she could barely fit on my shoulder anymore. I couldn’t scoop her up in my hands like I used to either. Even though she only weighed two or three pounds, she was over a foot long. But that didn’t stop her from helping me with my chores.

When my kids finally did show up and carted me away to that nursing home, I didn’t go without a fight. Neither the nursing home or my kids were too fond of me bringing Marigold with me. I’d argued for hours that if they allowed for pets, there was no reason I couldn’t bring my Marigold. They finally gave in when I began to fast in protest. I don’t get to enjoy my cigarettes anymore due to the home’s ‘health restrictions’. But, I still get to sit around a fountain in the evening, with new friends by my side and Marigold in my lap. Marigold certainly is the best and only lizard I’ve ever had.