I heard the unmistakable sound of his claws against the front porch moments after I realized that it had been his mighty wings, and not a temporary eclipse, that had just blocked out the blazing afternoon sun.
I jumped off the couch to open the front door before he put his stone fist through the glass in an attempt to knock on it. Gargoyles do not know their own strength.
“There you are, my friend,” Gary the Gargoyle declared in his gravelly voice. “I had grown worried about you.”
I stepped out onto the porch, which seemed to confine the mighty Gargoyle in a manner to which he was not accustomed. His usual perch was atop the roof of The House on the Hill, where he could watch over me and my home.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been up to visit you…” my voice trailed off because I really didn’t have a good excuse for why I hadn’t gone to the roof to seek his counsel.
“No need to apologize,” he assured me. “It is I who serve you. However, with my keen hearing, I have heard your conversations and all the…”
This time it was Gary who trailed off when he realized he was about to say something that might not sit well with me.
“The crying,” I finished for him. “You’ve heard me crying far too much and you feared I might be drowning in my tears.”
A smile broke across Gary’s stone face. It was a sight almost as unusual as seeing a Gargoyle standing on a front porch in the middle of the afternoon.
“I’ve also heard all the imaginary conversations you’ve been having with your beloved,” he put is as delicately as a Gargoyle could. “You’ve made some excellent points, but might I suggest they’d be far more effective if you brought her into the loop?”
“Unfortunately, those chats are going to have to remain one-sided for the time being,” I informed him. “Thanks for the concern. I’m glad you came down to talk.”
“I thought you might feel a bit more sane speaking to a Gargoyle rather than to yourself,” he quipped.
He flapped his mighty wings because the confines of the front porch were clearly cramping his style. Gary was never one to complain, though.
“Have you come to help me forget, if even for just a while?” I asked hopefully.
“It has been my experience that when words cannot help a broken heart, there are other ways to make it soar,” Gary spoke like a true Modern Philosopher.
I nodded my understanding and then followed him as he walked off the porch and onto the front walk. I might be getting up there in years, but I’m still limber enough to jump onto a Gargoyle’s back to go flying.
Seconds later, we were high above the Penobscot River, and I was looking down at Bangor. It’s such a beautiful city from every perspective.
Even though I was closer to the relentless summer sun, I felt cooler in the wind whipped up by Gary’s wings.
That high up, with my problems so far below me, I was finally able to breathe again.
“Are we still over Bangor?” I screamed to be heard over the wind, as I’d forgotten that Gargoyles have very keen hearing.
“Of course, my friend,” he replied. “Where did you think we were?”
“That looks like Dublin,” I mumbled as I released one hand from Gary’s neck to wipe away the sudden flood of tears streaming down my face.
“Up here, anything’s possible,” Gary reminded me. “That’s why you should never give up hope, and never stop chasing whatever makes your heart beat faster.”
I didn’t say anything else for the rest of our journey. I just listened to the calming, rhythmic beat of Gary’s wings, and pondered his words of wisdom.
If you don’t already have a Gargoyle, I highly recommend that you get one.
You can follow me on Pinterest even if you don’t own a Gargoyle!