The Elderly Woman Struggles to Rise and Walk to the Yard with a Bowl of Bread.
The old woman dragged herself from bed, leaning heavily against the wall as she shuffled to the door. In the kitchen, she clutched a bowl of crumbled bread and stepped into the garden.
“Feels like Im rusting away. Those hens clucking so loudlyshould I let them into the vegetable patch? Id never catch them by nightfall. Oh, what am I thinking? Soon enough, my daughter-in-law will pack me off to the care home.”
She unlatched the henhouse, and out bustled seven hens, trailed by a proud rooster. Scattering crumbs, she turned toward the loo. On her way back, her eyes wandered to the vegetable beds.
“Gwendoline,” came the neighbours voice by the fence. “Still bustling about, are you? Nearly ninety, and you wont sit still.”
“How could I, Felicity?” The old woman hobbled closer. “Still got cabbages and carrots to pull. Lucky my Michael and his Irene took care of the potatoes.”
“Youve a good grandson, you have.”
“Hard on him now, without his dad.” Her voice cracked, tears welling.
“There now, Gwendoline, enough of that,” Felicity soothed. “Your boys not suffering anymore. A year lying stillhow do you think he felt? Now hes watching over you from above.”
“Felicity, he was only sixty. Strong as an ox! And in a year, he withered away.”
“Soon enough, Ill be joining my son.”
“Dont rush it, Gwendoline! Youve time yet. Live a little longer!”
“And how? My legs barely hold me. Septembers end, and the colds creeping in. Alonehow will I manage?”
“But youve your daughter-in-law and grandchildren.”
“Oh, Felicity, what are you on about? Michaels got three kids and his mother-in-law underfoot. Joannas in a one-bed flat with her two. And Catherine, the daughter-in-law?”
“Shes counting the days till Im gone. Forty days after Daniel passed, I heard her whisper to Joannaplotting to sell my house, buy her a flat.”
“Dont you agree to it, Gwendoline!”
“Joannas my granddaughter. Let her live proper.”
“And you?”
“Off to the care home, I expect. At least therell be someone to tend to me. Here, Im afraid to light the stove. No firewood left. Ill freeze, and no one will know.”
“Thank you, Felicity. Best be off.” She waved a trembling hand. “Let the hens loose. There they go, trampling the veg. Best fetch the eggs.”
The mistress of the yard trudged back to the henhouse.
Morning came, colder still. Gwendoline burrowed deeper under the blankets. But she had to rise.
Shivering, she wrapped herself in a shawl and stumbled outside. Barely had she fed the hens when her grandsons car rattled up the drive. He usually visited weekendswhy today, a Wednesday? Her heart clenched. Change was coming.
“Hello, Gran!”
“Something wrong?” she asked, brow furrowed.
“Enough of you living alone,” he said, gesturing to the grey sky. “Winters coming.”
“But my hens? The cabbages and carrots arent pulled yet,” she fretted.
“Gran, Ill tend the hens. Ill harvest the veg while you pack. Go on, hurry up!”
Gwendoline lingered. Sixty years shed lived here, since Henry brought her home as his bride. Here, Daniel was born. Fifteen years since Henry passedand now Daniel too. She sank onto a bench, weeping.
Time blurred. She jolted up, peered through the window. Her grandson had hauled up every carrot, was slicing cabbages. A fine harvestgreat, hearty heads. She sighed, then turned to her things.
“What to take? Cant leave it all. Cant take it all. Will the home even allow it? The photo albumproof I lived. Must gather the papers. Theyll sell the housewhat if they miss something? Clothes, then. New owners will toss the lot.”
“Gran, taking long?” her grandson called. “All the vegs stored in the shed. Ill share it out come weekend.”
He loaded her belongings into the car, helped her in, and drove off. Gwendoline stared through the window, bidding farewell to the village.
The city loomed. Soon, rows of terraced houses appeared. The car halted.
“Oh, were at Daniels,” she thought, puzzled. “Come to say goodbye to Catherine?”
“Aunt Gwendoline!” Catherine beamed, even pecked her cheek.
“Hello, Catherine,” she murmured, though inside she thought, “Afraid Ill withhold the house, is she?”
“Aunt Gwendoline, weve cleared a room for youwhere Daniel spent his last days.” Catherines eyes brimmed.
“Done it up proper,” she said, steering her inside. “New bed, new wardrobe.”
“Catherine,” the old woman finally grasped her meaning. “So… youre not sending me to the home?”
“Mum, mum, please, enough!”
“Why the tears?”
“Gran, whered you get the idea wed sell your house?” Her grandson laughed. “Were turning it into a holiday spot for the family. Summers in the countrysidewith the woods right there.”
Gwendolines heart swelled. Such good grandchildren she had.
“And such a daughter-in-law! Howd I miss it all these forty years?”
