Clever Magazine, Vol. 6, #2 " Gates " (www.clevermag.com)

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Gates

by Dee Walmsley

Who will come thru next?

In everyone’s past, there are a number of gates. I vaguely recall the white picket gate attached to a sentinel fence that guarded a house on Princess Street in Victoria, BC. I was six at the time and just barely able to reach through the slats to release the lock.

A few years later, my friends and I took turns swinging on a rusting steel apparatus that squealed its delight as we swung to and fro, worn hinges fighting their hold on an aging cedar post. The homemade gate to our hog pen consisted of three pine planks, a couple of posts and a wire loop. It was always a race between the pigs and me as to who would get through it first.

I jumped a gate once. I took a shortcut across a cow pasture to catch the school bus. I like cows. They have beautiful brown eyes and friendly faces. On this particular day, there must have been a full moon because the cows, which normally ignored me, slowly formed a circle like a herd of buffalo protecting their young. I bolted screaming for mama, sailed over the gate schoolbooks flying along with me. Before picking myself up, I looked through the fence. Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted a more serene pastoral scene. I walked the extra mile from then on.

How well I remember the security gates on the military bases I called home. They were always attached to a guardhouse and military police. With proper documentation, the gates rose. Without it, they became a barrier to the outside world. I managed to sneak through a few times hidden under a blanket on the floor but I also spent a few worrisome hours in the brink after my first 72-hour pass when I left my purse and my entire ID in a bar. My memory of the night's events were a little fuzzy, made even more unclear by the third-degree the on-duty MP delighted in browbeating me with. Fortunately, a kindly citizen discovered my purse and turned it in and I was allowed to shamefully crawl back to my barracks to serve out my time.

Today I have a very special gate. It stands alone in my backyard. Its companion fence is gone, but this green chain-link gate on its galvanized posts remains as a reminder to what was once a doorway into my natural world. The forest has been replaced by mega-homes. A solid cedar fence stakes out the owner's territory and for a wee while discouraged wildlife from visiting.

My gate remains open. Last night I watched in awe as a raccoon waddled through for a drink and then in the shadows came not one, or two but three babes. Mama raccoon saw me watching and came to the door for a handout while her kits splashed and played in their private pool. Today I changed the water and added a few toys. Tonight I’ll be watching and waiting for the action to begin as the foursome enter my magic gate.