The Elderly Woman Struggles to Rise and Step Into the Garden with a Bowl of Bread.
The old woman rose from her 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 shaking off the rust,” she muttered. “The hens are clucking so loudly. Should I let them into the vegetable patch? By nightfall, Ill never catch them again. Oh, what am I thinking? It wont be long before my daughter-in-law sends me off to the nursing home.”
She unlatched the henhouse door, and out strutted seven hens, followed by a proud rooster. Scattering the crumbs for them, she then shuffled toward the washroom.
Upon returning, she cast a glance at her vegetable patch.
“Gwendoline,” came the voice of her neighbour over the fence. “Still keeping busy? Youre nearly ninety now.”
“How could I not be, Felicity?” The old woman moved closer to the fence. “Still got the cabbages and carrots to harvest. Lucky my grandson Michael and his wife Irene dug up the potatoes for me.”
“Youve a fine grandson!”
“Its hard for him now, without his father,” the old woman began to weep.
“Now, now, Gwendoline, enough tears,” Felicity comforted her. “Your boys at peace. A year without movinghow do you think he felt? Now he watches over you from heaven.”
“Felicity, he was only sixty. Strong as an ox, he was! And in just a year, he withered away.”
“Soon Ill join my son too.”
“Dont rush it, Gwendoline! Theres time yet. Live a little longer!”
“Live? How? My legs barely hold me up,” the old woman sighed heavily. “Its late September, and the colds setting in. How will I manage here alone?”
“But youve your daughter-in-law and grandchildren.”
“Oh, Felicity, what are you saying? Michaels got three children and his mother-in-law living with him. Joanna, with her two little ones, is squeezed into a one-bedroom flat.”
“And what of Catherine, your daughter-in-law?”
“She only waits for me to die. At Daniels forty-day memorial, I overheard her telling Joanna she meant to sell my house to buy herself a flat.”
“Dont you agree to it, Gwendoline!”
“Joannas my granddaughterlet her live decently.”
“And what of you?”
“Theyll send me to the nursing home, I suppose. At least there, someone will tend to me. Here, I dread even lighting the stove. And Ive no firewood left. Ill freeze, and no one will know.”
“Thank you, Felicity. Best be off,” she waved her hands. “Let the hens loose, and there they go, into the vegetable patch. Ill gather the eggs!”
The mistress of the garden trudged back to the henhouse.
Come morning, Gwendoline felt the chill deepen. She longed to stay beneath the blankets, but she must rise.
Shivering, she wrapped herself in a shawl and stepped outside. Shed barely finished feeding the hens when her grandsons car pulled upodd for a Wednesday. Her heart tightened.
“Hello, Gran!”
“Has something happened?” Gwendoline asked warily.
“You cant stay here alone any longer,” he gestured at the sky. “Winters coming.”
“But my hens! The cabbages and carrots arent harvested yet,” she fretted.
“Gran, Ill tend the hens. Ill gather the crops while you pack. Hurry now!”
Gwendoline lingered, packing slowly. Shed lived here over sixty years, since Henry brought her as his bride. Daniel was born here. Fifteen years since Henry passednow Daniel too was gone. She sat on the bench and wept.
Lost in thought, she startled when she glanced out the window. Her grandson had already dug up the carrots and was cutting the cabbagesfine, big heads. She sighed deeply and resumed packing.
“What to take? Leaving it all is a shame, but she couldnt take everything. Would the nursing home even allow it? The photo album, to remember her life. Shed need her paperstheyd sell the house, and if they couldnt find the deeds? Clothes, too. New owners would toss it all.”
“Gran, are you ready?” Her grandson interrupted. “The carrots and cabbages are stored in the shed. Ill distribute them this weekend.”
He loaded her belongings into the car and helped her in. As they drove, Gwendoline watched her village fade behind her.
The town was close. Soon, rows of terraced houses appeared. The car stopped.
“Oh, were at Daniels house,” Gwendoline thought, puzzled. “Has he brought me to say farewell to Catherine?”
“Aunt Gwendoline!” Catherine greeted her warmly, even kissing her cheek.
“Hello, dear,” Gwendoline replied, though inwardly she wondered, “Afraid I wont sign the house over, I expect.”
“Aunt Gwendoline, weve cleared a room for youthe one Daniel spent his last days in,” Catherines voice broke.
“And weve redone it,” she guided her mother-in-law inside. “A new bed and wardrobe.”
“Catherine,” the old woman finally understood. “Youre not sending me to the nursing home?”
“Mum, please, enough of that!”
“Why are you crying?”
“Gran, whered you get the idea wed sell your house?” Her grandson laughed. “Were turning it into a holiday retreat for the family. Summers there, with the woods right by.”
Gwendolines heart swelled with joy. She had such good grandchildren after all.
“And what a daughter-in-law I have! How did I not see it these forty years?”
