Elderly Woman Struggles to Rise and Go to the Garden with a Bowl of Bread.
The old woman rose from bed with great effort. Leaning against the wall, she made her way to the door. In the kitchen, she picked up a bowl of breadcrumbs and stepped out into the garden.
“Feels like Im rusting away. Those chickens wont stop clucking. Should I let them into the vegetable patch? Ill never catch them come nightfall. Oh, what am I thinking? Soon enough, my daughter-in-law will pack me off to the care home.”
She opened the henhouse door. Seven hens scurried out, followed by a proud rooster strutting behind. The old woman scattered the crumbs for them and headed to the loo.
On her way back, she glanced at her vegetable plot.
“Margaret,” came the voice of her neighbour over the fence. “Still keeping busy, are you? Youre nearly ninety.”
“How could I not, Felicity?” The old woman shuffled closer. “Still got the cabbages and carrots to harvest. Thank goodness Michael and his Irene dug up the potatoes for me.”
“Youve got a good grandson there!”
“Its hard for him now, without his dad,” the old woman began to weep.
“Now, now, Margaret, no more tears,” Felicity soothed. “Your boys not suffering anymore. A whole year without movinghow do you think he felt? Now hes watching over you from heaven.”
“Felicity, he was only sixty. Strong as an ox, he was! And in just a year, he withered away.”
“Soon enough, Ill be joining my own son.”
“Dont rush it, Margaret! Youve got time yet. Live a little longer!”
“And how am I to live here? My legs barely hold me up,” the old woman sighed heavily. “Its late September, and the colds setting in. How will I manage alone?”
“But youve your daughter-in-law and grandchildren.”
“Oh, Felicity, what are you on about? Michaels got three kids and his mother-in-law living with him. Joannas in a one-bed flat with her two. And Catherinethat daughter-in-law of mineshes only waiting for me to die. At Daniels wake, I heard her tell Joanna shed sell my house to buy her a flat.”
“Dont you agree to that, Margaret!”
“Joannas my granddaughterlet her live decently.”
“And what about you?”
“Theyll bundle me off to the care home, I suppose. At least there, someonell look after me. Here, Im even scared to light the stove. No firewood left. Ill freeze, and no onell know.”
“Thanks, Felicity. Right, best be off,” she waved. “Let the hens outthere they go, straight for the veg. Best collect the eggs.”
The old woman hobbled back to the henhouse.
Come morning, Margaret felt the chill sharper than ever. She didnt want to leave her blankets. But she had to.
She rose, shivering, wrapped herself in a shawl, and stepped outside. Barely had she fed the hens when her grandsons car pulled up. He usually visited on weekendswhy was he here on a Wednesday? The old woman knew something was about to change.
“Hello, Gran!”
“Whats happened?” Margaret asked warily.
“Enough of you living here alone,” he gestured at the sky. “Winters coming.”
“But my hens? The cabbages and carrots arent even picked yet,” she fretted.
“Gran, Ill sort the hens. Ill harvest the veg while you get ready. Go on, hurry up!”
Margaret took her time. Shed lived here over sixty years, ever since William brought her home as his bride. It was where Daniel was born. Fifteen years since William passedand now Daniel was gone too. She sank onto a bench and wept.
She sat there a long while. Then she sprang up, peered out the window. Her grandson had already pulled up all the carrots and was cutting cabbages. A fine crophuge heads. She sighed deeply and began gathering her things.
“What do I take? Leaving it alls a shame. Cant take everything. Will the home even let me bring much? Ill take the photo albumto remember my life. Must gather all the papers. Theyll sell the housewhat if they cant find the deeds? Clothes, then. New ownersll chuck the lot.”
“Gran, you ready yet?” her grandson called. “Done the carrots and cabbages. Took em to the shed. Ill come back weekend to share em out.”
He loaded her things into the car, helped her in, and drove off. Margaret gazed out the window, saying goodbye to the village.
The town wasnt far. Soon, rows of terraced houses appeared. The car stopped.
“Oh, were at Daniels,” Margaret thought, puzzled. “Has he brought me to say goodbye to Catherine?”
“Hello, Aunt Margaret!” Catherine greeted her warmly, even kissing her cheek.
“Hello, love,” Margaret replied, though she thought, “Afraid I wont sign the house over, is she?”
“Aunt Margaret, weve cleared a room for youwhere Daniel spent his last days,” Catherines voice cracked.
“Weve done it up,” she guided her mother-in-law inside, “bought a new bed and wardrobe.”
“Catherine,” the old woman finally understood. “So youre not sending me to the home?”
“Mum, mum, please, enough!”
“Why are you crying?”
“Gran, whered you get the idea wed sell your house?” Her grandson laughed. “Were turning it into a holiday spot for everyone. Summers there, with the woods right there.”
Margarets heart swelled with joy. After all, she had such good grandchildren.
“And what a daughter-in-law Ive got! Howd I not see it in forty years?”
