The End of a Rake

My latest place of abode
My latest place of abode

Henry is killing a green bean. The last time he killed something it was a mouse. He is throwing the bean up in the air much as he did to the moribund mouse. He is able to fling his conquests a good metre into the air, which I assume is how the body of the rodent landed in the loo, from where I caught Henry trying to retrieve it.
Henry, in case you don’t know, is the new feline addition to my household. He belonged to a young neighbour, who has decided to exchange beach life for city life, and didn’t think Henry would cope with the change. So, Snatch and I now are having to learn to deal with a highly energized young tom, full of testosterone and nonsense. He woke me up at some unearthly hour by collapsing the mosquito net over me. I decide to leave Henry to his chore of decimating the errant green bean in order to see what the world looks like today in the rays of the rising sun.
I have no sooner got the door open, when I hear a voice greeting me in cheerful Portuguese. It is the ever-faithful Jaime, raking what passes for a yard. I hear him approaching, and turn to see him with a huge grin on his face brandishing an orange-tined rake in one hand, and old faithful in the other.
Jaime loves to rake. Before that fateful night back in November when my life was irrevocably changed by the flames of fury that destroyed my home, we had a number of emotional discussions about this penchant of his. It seemed to me that Jaime would be mesmerized by the movement of the sand, and not notice how he was altering the landscape. Thus banks developed where no banks were needed, levels were altered in awkward spots, hard fought for grass would be pulled up, and so on. My one relief after the fire was that the rake would no longer be.
You can imagine, therefore, the look of disbelief on my face when Jaime returned one afternoon, from the ashes of what used to be, proudly hoisting above his head, The Rake! I have just moved for the sixth time since losing my nest, and Jaime has religiously raked every area of beach surrounding every house that I have had the privilege of staying in. Anyone looking for me, simply needs to look for a well raked spot, and you will know I am nearby. So serious is this malady that other guardas are following his example, and we that live here are terrified that we will be raked into oblivion.
None of the afore going withstanding, I felt a momentary pang of something, emotion is too strong a word, as I realised that The Rake is being put away, banished, never to be used again. It is a metal rake, but its labours have been such that its tines are worn and misshapen. It broke in the middle at some point in its life, and carries the evidence of its healing surgery from Jaime, who deftly put it back together again.
I am hoping this is the last move for a while and that the final laying down of The Rake marks the end of this chapter of my life. I am in better shape than The Rake, I’m pleased to say! Still, I hope that the next stage will leave the imprint of an older, wiser, person pruned by God’s hand, to bear the fruit He has planned for me.

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