Elderly Woman Struggles to Rise and Tend to Her Garden with a Bowl of Bread
The elderly woman rose from bed with great effort. Leaning against the wall, she made her way to the door. In the kitchen, she grabbed a bowl of breadcrumbs and stepped into the garden.
“Feels like Im shaking off the rust,” she muttered. “The hens are clucking so loudly. 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 a care home.”
She opened the coop, and seven hens scurried out, followed by a proud rooster strutting behind. The old woman scattered the crumbs for them before heading to the washroom.
As she stepped back outside, she glanced at her vegetable patch.
“Gwendolyn,” came the voice of her neighbour over the fence. “Still keeping busy? Youre nearly ninety, you know.”
“How could I not be, Felicity?” Gwendolyn shuffled closer. “Still got the cabbages and carrots to harvest. Lucky my grandson Michael and his wife Irene dug up the potatoes for me.”
“Youve got a fine grandson!”
“Its hard for him now, without his father,” Gwendolyns eyes welled up.
“Now, now, Gwendolyn, no more tears,” Felicity soothed. “Your boys at peace. A whole year bedriddenhow do you think he felt? Now hes watching over you from above.”
“Felicity, he was only sixty. Strong as an oak, he was! And in just a year, he withered away.”
“Soon enough, Ill join my son too.”
“Dont rush it, Gwendolyn! Theres still time. Live a little longer!”
“Live how? My legs barely hold me up,” the old woman sighed heavily. “Its late September, and the chill is setting in. How will I manage here alone?”
“But youve got your daughter-in-law and grandchildren.”
“Oh, Felicity, what are you on about? Michaels got three children and his mother-in-law living with him. Joannas in a one-bed flat with her two little ones.”
“And what about Catherine, your daughter-in-law?”
“Shes just waiting for me to pass. At Daniels memorial, I overheard her telling Joanna shed sell my house to buy her a flat.”
“Dont you agree to that, Gwendolyn!”
“Joannas my granddaughterlet her live decently.”
“And what about you?”
“Theyll send me to a care home, I suppose. At least there, someone will look after me. Here, Im even afraid to light the stove. And Ive no firewood left. Ill freeze, and no one will know.”
“Thank you, Felicity. Best be off,” she waved. “Let the hens outthere they go, straight for the vegetables. Ill fetch the eggs!”
The old woman hobbled back to the coop.
The next morning, the cold bit deeper. Gwendolyn barely wanted to leave her bed. But she had to.
She rose, shivering, wrapped herself in a shawl, and stepped outside. Shed barely finished feeding the hens when her grandsons car pulled up. He usually visited on weekendswhy was he here on a Wednesday? A change was coming, she could feel it.
“Hello, Gran!”
“Whats happened?” Gwendolyn asked warily.
“You cant stay here alone any longer,” he nodded at the sky. “Winters coming.”
“But my hens! And the cabbages and carrots arent harvested yet,” she fretted.
“Gran, Ill tend to the hens. Ill pick the vegetables while you pack. Go on, hurry up!”
Gwendolyn lingered. Shed lived here over sixty years, since her Henry brought her home as his bride. It was where Daniel was born. Fifteen years since Henry passednow Daniel too. She sat on the bench and wept.
Time slipped by. Suddenly, she sprang up and peered out the window. Michael had gathered all the carrots and was cutting cabbages. A fine harvesthuge heads of cabbage. She took a deep breath and began packing.
“What do I take? Leaving it alls a shame, but I cant take everything. Will the home even allow it? Ill take the photo album, to remember. Must gather all the paperstheyll sell the house, and if they cant find the deeds? Clothes, too. New owners will toss it all out.”
“Gran, taking long?” Michael called. “All the carrots and cabbages are in the shed. Ill distribute them this weekend.”
He loaded her things into the car, helped her in, and drove off. Gwendolyn gazed out the window, bidding farewell to the village.
The town was near. Soon, rows of terraced houses appeared. The car stopped.
“Oh, were at Daniels,” Gwendolyn thought, surprised. “Has he brought me to say goodbye to Catherine?”
“Hello, Aunt Gwendolyn!” Catherine greeted warmly, even kissing her cheek.
“Hello, Catherine,” she replied, though inwardly she wondered, “Afraid I wont sign the house over, are you?”
“Aunt Gwendolyn, weve cleared a room for youwhere Daniel spent his last days,” Catherines voice cracked.
“Weve done it up,” she guided her inside, “bought a new bed and wardrobe.”
“Catherine,” Gwendolyn finally understood. “Youre not sending me to a home?”
“Mum, mum, please, enough!”
“Why are you crying?”
“Gran, whered you get the idea wed sell your house?” Michael laughed. “Were turning it into a holiday retreat for the family. Summers in the countryside, with the woods right there.”
Gwendolyns heart swelled with joy. After all, she had such wonderful grandchildren.
“And what a daughter-in-law I have! How did I not see it all these forty years?”
The lesson was clear: sometimes, love speaks in actions long before words, and fear often blinds us to the kindness right before our eyes.
