Have you ever thought about that trip back to Bethlehem for the tax payment? What it might have been like? What it might be like today? Well wonder no more, dear reader! Here is my take on it - originally published by Bewildering Stories, but I thought I'd post it again here just for you:
On the Road Home
I revisited our old stomping ground last week, before we set out on this trek.Remembering all the good times we’d had there, and no mistake!Maz’s always been one for a good time, you know?
“Jezza” she’d say to me, “You are a one, so you are!”
And we’d roll in the sweetly scented hay, stifling our laughter with kisses.
But that was BC - before conception.When she fell, she told her parents she was still a virgin; swore blind we’d never done IT.Well, she’s a good girl, isn’t she?We didn’t want people to think she was a slag, y’know?A miracle they all said.I went along with it; stood by her.They were suspicious, but I was clear of any dog-house.Then some old bastard passed that law about the likes of me returning home to pay my taxes.
So here we are on our way back, with Maz sitting on a donkey that’s on its last legs, and her bulging fit to burst.God knows if we’ll make it all the way before the baby comes.To make it easy, we're just following that new star in the east; even a sightless man could follow that all the way home.
And when we do arrive, what’s the betting there’re no rooms to be had, anywhere?S’pose in the end we’ll be grateful for a stack of hay in any old stable.Mind you, I’ve got very fond memories of Maz in stables; know what I mean?
Last night she turns to me, with a big goofy Madonna-like smile plastered all over her face, and says:
“Don’t worry; we’ll get through this Jezza.And then the baby’ll be born... and we’ll be a proper family.”
The wind sawed and whistled through the canopy of branches overhead; taking the trees’ autumn cloaks away, ready for the coming winter‘s sleep. He could taste the cold on his tongue, sharp and sweet, as he lay sheltered and snug in the comfy basket. She had placed a pillow at the bottom, to ease his weary bones. And he could sense her now - hovering anxiously, wanting to do more, yet knowing not what. He wiggled his nose and yawned; his whiskers twitched.
He remembered back to when he was a kitten; Her kindness and cuddles; fighting with a brother -but locking in to defend alongside that brother from all comers. Growing and scraping; investigating and exploring – and getting stuck up a tree:
“Well you got up there – now get yourself down!” She had said laughing; face upturned, hands on hips.
Now opening one sleepy emerald orb he encountering Her apprehensive eyes and slowly began a rumbling purr to reassure. Her loving and much loved hand gently laid on his head then rippled down his back, caressing his coat; soothing his ache. They stayed together in companionable silence; watching sunbeams flicker off the pond; catching the whiff of wood smoke on the riffling wind from a garden down the way. Finally, as the sun melted away behind the trees, laying deep shadows across the garden and making dark mysterious pools, he huffed in quick satisfaction.
For now it was enough to sit and be – with Her there to comfort.
