It’s what she did most days. Sit by the window.
Outside the sun shone or it rained, didn’t matter much to her, as she liked to watch. Life was happening out there. Birds fluttered about, sang loudly in the mornings, and on some cloudy evenings, she’d hear the frogs croaking suggesting there was rain on the way.
Last week the grandkids came round and she watched them playing in the yard while her daughter complained about her husband. ‘Why did she stay with him when he made her life a misery?’
She was disappointed when they went home, not for her daughter but for the grandkids. The youthful exuberance of them invaded her and she remembered playing in the yard just like them, with her brother and sister.
Where did all that go?
Now she was confined to a room, thank goodness for the window and her memories.
Tomorrow was Friday and the shower nurse would round early, to help her shower, change the bed, and most importantly share a cuppa with her.
Life was so much routine nowadays. Her life was ordered. She didn’t go much for the health nurse who came in the check her legs and spent the whole time giving advice as to what she should be doing, how often and when. The woman was always too busy to have a cuppa, in and out, as quick as she could. She had no heart, just doing a job.
Spring brought out the blossoms on the apple tree in the yard. Mr Parkinson came round every few weeks to mow and prune the shrubs, which meant her yard; looked okay much of the time and that pleased her. Gave the grandkids a tidy place in which to play.
Looking out she remembered when it snowed; the blossoms took a sheen she’d never seen before. It had only happened once.
She sighed recalling that magic day. They said it was climate change.