Free Across the Winds of Time by Bess McBride

widows. I’m sure it belonged to their grandparents or something.”
    “Whose tombstone is this?” Sara glanced up.
    I blinked. I knew which photo she meant.
    “I don’t know. It was in the Lilium cemetery. I just thought it was interesting.”
    “But no one we’re related to, right?”
    I shook my head. “No, I can’t even read the name.”
    Sara gave me a quizzical look and shrugged. She put her hands on her blue-jeaned knees to rise.
    “Well, let’s go get something to eat to...uh... celebrate. Something is bound to be open this late.”
    “I’m too tired,” I whined.
    Sara reached down to pull me to my feet. “Get up. We’re going out amongst your peeps now. You’re going to be a resident of Iowa! Do you have any idea what the tax laws are here in the state? State income tax? Property taxes?”
    “No,” I mumbled. “Should I?”
    “Geez, you’re naïve,” Sara chuckled as she found my shoes and set them in front of me.
     
    ****
     
    Two weeks later, I was back in Iowa, thanking my lucky stars that the Indian summer nights had not yet turned cold because the heating and cooling guys weren’t going to be able to get on the project for another week.
    I could have waited in my apartment in Seattle for the comfort of upgraded wiring and plumbing in my new house, but Sassy asked me daily when we were moving. I rocked in my white wicker porch chair and grinned. Not really.
    Sassy had traveled from Washington State to Iowa in my small hybrid car, caterwauling and screaming for the first two days. On the third day, she settled into a depressed resignation and hung like a limp rag doll in my arms when I took her out of her cage that night in the motel room.
    Now, Sassy sat on the inside window sill of the large bay window on the first floor and threw resentful looks in my direction as her human enjoyed the wind on the front porch of her new house—her newly purchased house, that is.
    Sassy was a born and bred indoor city cat and it was too dangerous to let her out on the town, so to speak. I had no idea what critters roamed the nearby fields looking for naïve kitties. The cornfield-wise Marmaduke took full advantage of the situation by preening with tail held high as he freely marched up and down the railing of the front porch. Little did he know that I had already set up an appointment to have him neutered the following week.
    I reveled in the first purchase for my new home—a white wicker porch set that smacked of Victorian décor—or at least I thought it did. I adored the fluffy bright yellow and rose-flowered seat cushions. With a bottle of lemonade on a dainty glass-topped table by my side, I waited for the movers to bring the rest of my furniture, which, in its entirety, wouldn’t even fill up the living room.
    My funds were limited, and I would have to furnish the bedrooms and formal living room of the house slowly. The cable company was scheduled to set up my satellite service within the week, so I would be fully wired and online with my graphic design work—a great job with a wonderful company that allowed me to pick up and move halfway across the country just as I had done.
    The wind I loved blew gently across the porch from the south. I turned my head in that direction, but of course I couldn’t see the cemetery through the trees of my garden.
    My garden! I hugged myself with glee. A garden. Who would have thought I would ever have a garden of my own? Admittedly, it was overgrown and not much to look at, but I hoped to have that fixed soon. I would have to hire someone to re-sod the front lawn as weeds had taken over the grass.
    I straightened in anticipation as a car pulled into the driveway. It wasn’t the movers, but Laura and Cynthia. I jumped up and made my way down to the car to help Cynthia alight.
    “Hello, my dear. So, here you are, your first day in your new home. How do you feel?” Cynthia leaned on me while Laura retrieved her walker from the back seat of the town