**A Struggle to Rise and Feed the Hens**
I forced myself out of bed this morning, every joint protesting. Leaning against the wall, I shuffled to the door. In the kitchen, I grabbed a bowl of breadcrumbs and stepped into the garden.
“Feels like I’m rusting away,” I muttered. “Those hens wont stop clucking. Should I let them into the vegetable patch? No, Id never catch them by nightfall. What am I thinking? Soon enough, my daughter-in-law will pack me off to a care home.”
I unlatched the henhouse door. Seven hens scurried out, followed by the cock, strutting like he owned the place. Scattering the crumbs, I sighed and went back inside to wash up.
As I stepped out again, I glanced at my garden.
“Margaret!” My neighbour Agnes called over the fence. “Still keeping busy, then? Youre nearly ninety, love.”
“What else would I do, Agnes?” I shuffled closer. “Still got the cabbages and carrots to harvest. Lucky my grandson Peter and his wife Emily dug up the potatoes for me.”
“Youve got a good lad there!”
“Its hard for him now, without his dad,” I said, tears welling up.
“Now, now, Margaret, no more tears,” Agnes soothed. “Your boys not suffering anymore. A whole year bedriddenhow must he have felt? Hes watching over you now.”
“Agnes, he was only sixty. Strong as an ox, he was. Then, in just a year, he wasted away.”
“Soon enough, Ill join my boy.”
“Dont rush it, Margaret! Youve got time yet. Live a little longer!”
“Live how? My legs barely hold me,” I sighed. “Its late September, and the chills setting in. How will I manage alone?”
“But youve got your daughter-in-law and grandchildren.”
“Oh, Agnes, what are you on about? Peters got three kids and his mother-in-law living with him. Lucys in a one-bed flat with her two. And Sarah, my daughter-in-law? Shes just waiting for me to go. After Daniels funeral, I heard her telling Lucy shed sell my house to buy her a proper place.”
“Dont you agree to that, Margaret!”
“Lucys my granddaughtershe deserves a decent life.”
“And what about you?”
“Theyll send me to a 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 one will know.”
“Thanks, Agnes. Best get on,” I waved her off. “Let the hens loose, and now theyre in the veg patch. Best fetch the eggs.”
I hobbled back to the henhouse.
This morning, the cold bit deeper. I didnt want to leave my bed, but I had to. Wrapped in a blanket, I shuffled outside. Barely finished feeding the hens when Peters car pulled up. He usually visits on weekendswhy was he here on a Thursday? My heart sank. Something was changing.
“Hello, Gran!”
“Whats happened?” I frowned.
“You cant stay here alone anymore,” he said, gesturing at the grey sky. “Winters coming.”
“But my hens? The cabbages and carrots arent even harvested!”
“Gran, Ill sort the hens. Ill pick the veg while you pack. Go on, hurry up!”
I dawdled, packing. Sixty years Id lived here, since George brought me home as his bride. Daniel was born here. Fifteen years since George passednow Daniels gone too. I sat on the bench and wept.
Finally, I rose, glancing out the window. Peter had pulled up all the carrots and was cutting cabbagesfine, big heads. I took a deep breath and gathered my things.
“What do I take? Cant leave it all, cant take it all. Will the home even let me keep much? The photo album, at least. And the paperworktheyll sell the house, wont they? Clothes, too. New owners will toss the rest.”
“Gran, you ready?” Peter called. “Vegs all stored. Ill hand it out this weekend.”
He loaded my things into the car and helped me in. I stared out the window, saying goodbye to the village.
Soon, the citys terraced houses appeared. The car stopped.
“Oh, Daniels house,” I thought, surprised. “Has Peter brought me to say goodbye to Sarah?”
“Aunt Margaret!” Sarah smiled, even kissed my cheek.
“Hello, Sarah,” I said, though I thought, *Shes worried I wont sign the house over.*
“Weve cleared a room for youDaniels old room,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Freshened it up, new bed and wardrobe.”
“Sarah,” I blinked. “So… youre not sending me to a home?”
“Mum, please, enough of that!”
“Why are you crying?”
“Gran, whered you get the idea wed sell your house?” Peter laughed. “Were turning it into a holiday spot for the family. Summers there, with the woods right there.”
My heart swelled. I had such good grandchildren.
“And such a daughter-in-law! How didnt I see it in forty years?”
