The Caretaker

by Jeremy Warach

Erasmus the lawn gnome scanned his territory, as he always did. It was his duty. It was the proud duty of all lawn gnomes to closely guard the property which had been entrusted to them. And Erasmus took his duty seriously. From the eastern property line to the sycamore tree was the domain which he guarded. He would gladly watch more of the property, but his head was affixed firmly to his shoulders and turned neither to the left nor the right, so he could see no further than these bounds.

But Erasmus was content with his responsibility, and he performed it well. Otherwise he certainly would have been relieved of his position by the property owner and, most likely, moved into the garden shed, along with some other lawn ornaments which had overstayed their welcome or outlasted their usefulness.

Autumn had taken hold, and the crackly golden and orange leaves from the neighbor's unpruned trees blew across Erasmus' lawn. He liked to think of it as "his" lawn, even though he was only its caretaker. But, having maintained his spot between the two boxwoods and in front of the black-eyed Susans for these last seven years – longer than any other decoration in this garden – he felt as though he had some claim of possession over it.  If his painted plaster face could move, he would be grinning with satisfaction and pride.

But today he did not feel like smiling. Hiram had arrived. Hiram the interloper. Hiram the pretender. Hiram the new lawn gnome. Who did he think he was anyway? Erasmus was the gnome with seniority, with knowledge of the terrain. Did Hiram know anything about the rabbits which would come in the late summer and fall, hiding in the crawl space under the stoop when the rain came? Of course not. Nor did he know about the neighbors and how close they parked their car to the curb. How could he? Yet, for some reason, the property owner (Erasmus would have to learn his name one of these days) still saw fit to install Hiram near the western edge of the property, and at such an angle that he could easily see territory that was hidden to Erasmus.

And Hiram clearly knew he was bothering Erasmus. The smirk on his bearded face made that clear. The one eye of Hiram's which Erasmus could see was filled with mocking. And his other eye would be able to see all that was not in Erasmus' view. Erasmus had to admit to himself (but he would never admit it to Hiram), that he was a little envious and hurt. Hadn't he done his job well all these years? Why not simply turn him a little to the left? Then he would be able to keep an effective watch over the whole property.

Erasmus sulked over these worries on the inside while outwardly maintaining his show of pride and near arrogance at being the senior guy. He had to maintain decorum. He continued doing his job, and doing it well.

The seasons passed, and Erasmus slowly came to accept Hiram's presence. Erasmus had to admit to himself that Hiram seemed to be doing his job. And he would never admit it to any of the other lawn ornaments, but he was feeling a grudging respect. Nothing untoward had come to pass, and Hiram did not gloat or show disrespect to Erasmus. He quietly observed. The robins and sparrows occasionally lighted on his hat. At first, Erasmus secretly hoped that they would leave a messy and undignified record of their stay, but they never did, and as Erasmus' respect for Hiram grew, he was happy to see that the birds shared this same regard and refrained from defiling him.

Deep in the gloom of an especially gloomy February, the snow lay deep across the property, piled high in drifts against the walls of the house behind Erasmus. His lower body had been buried for weeks now, but he accepted this with his usual stoic grace. The eaves of the home which hung over Hiram and Erasmus were adorned with icicles which glittered when the sun was out, but this morning was far too grey for anything to glitter.

A breeze rose up slowly and strengthened into a gust which blew through Erasmus to his plaster core. To his left he heard a crack. He turned his attention quick enough to see a monstrous icicle loosed by the wind from the edge of the roof and crash down directly upon Hiram. The force was strong enough to break off the top half of Hiram's sky blue pointed hat, revealing the chalky white rock inside Hiram's head.

Erasmus cringed inwardly as he watched this and observed the sad scene which remained afterward. Hiram tried to maintain his composure, but it must have been very difficult, with the top of his head lying on the snow at his side.

The property owner would surely remove Hiram now. Perhaps to repair him and put him somewhere on the property with less prominence (maybe even in the backyard). Possibly he would just be discarded. How sad.

Erasmus' painted face was as immobile as always, which was a good thing, else otherwise he would have had to suppress a grin.