It was dark as we drove down the lane toward our house one Sunday evening after church. An eerie stillness filled the air, strange for Oklahoma, where the wind usually comes sweeping down the plain. There was something---not quite right about things.
Wait, there it was! The door, the garage door, stood open like a great, gaping maw ready to swallow anything that came near. The light, the friendly overhead light that normally accompanied the door when it was open, was shuttered and cold. It did not greet us with it's warm glow. Hmmm.....I was sure I had closed that door when I left. Could it be that the door had betrayed us and opened for someone other than it's little family?
I stopped the car in the driveway, unwilling to enter that black hole. And yet, it was my home. I should not be afraid. I should be bold. I should go forth. I should be brave, as an example for my offspring still in the waiting vehicle. "Stay here, children." I said. "I shall go and try the door. Be brave for me, my loves. If I should not return, remember I will always love you."
My feet were leaden as I trod up the long, long drive. My hand reached out toward the doorknob. My fingers trembled but I forced them to turn the cold, hard handle. And then, and then---.nothing! Our trustworthy hound, Bucky, who always greeted us joyously whenever we returned from even the shortest jaunt, was not on the doorstep. She had not come running at the sound of my presence. This was the final straw upon the laden camel's back. I could bear it no longer but turned and fled back down the drive.
"Let us go and take refuge at the neighbors, my sons." I said. "I believe we should summon the local constables." Our neighbors gladly took us in, made us welcome and comforted us while we made the necessary call. And so we waited.
They came, those protectors of the peace, those warriors for the woe begotten. I ran out to greet them. "Ma'am, what's the trouble, ma'am?" asked one.
"Oh, Officer, please help us," I said, holding my lace handkerchief to my moist eyelids. "My husband has gone away on a business trip and we are all alone."
"Stay back," he exclaimed, bravely. "We shall search the house for intruders and report back to you."
We stood in the lonely cul de sac watching the stalwart defenders of the city move through the quiet house. We could see the glow of their flashlights as they moved from room to room to room. At the top of the stairs the light froze, then finally moved on again. Then the fearless officers emerged slowly from the now lit garage, trailed by a sleepy looking dog
"Well, ma'am, sometimes when a jet flies over, the radio frequencies will cause a garage door opener to malfunction. We went through the whole house and we are pretty sure no one has been in there. We're especially sure there was no one in the upstairs bedroom before we got there because when Officer Baker, here, opened the door a whole box of confetti fell down on his head from the top of the door. You almost got a hole blown in your wall.
"Oh, yeah," said Jake. "I was setting a trap for my brother so that when he opened the door to my room he'd get hit on the head with the confetti. I wanted to use water but I couldn't find a bucket. I guess the confetti worked, huh?"
And so our little family went safely back to our home, to sleep, perchance to dream. And Jake was confined to his room the next day, his only companion the stalwart vacuum cleaner.
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