A short one for a change.
In an ordinary house, on an ordinary farm, near a tiny country town, in the Shire of Victoria Plains, in Western Australia, an elderly wife became an elderly widow. Whilst she, the wife now widow, was pleased his suffering had ended, she spent her evenings inside her head, reverting from widow to wife once again. Escapades and life flitting like the film of her youth through her mind, a mind that was, incidentally, sharper than any tack you happened upon, and it was there that she now found true pleasure.
Where ever she moved about the house, her home, the tiniest of things would inspire memories rich with emotions. The smell of kindling first catching in her Metters stove returned her to the day her then only, now eldest, son had first managed to light the fire. Whilst walking, in her shuffling way, a floorboard near the laundry creaking sent her back to a time when then husband, now loving memory, had battled a possum with a poker from ‘the inside fire’, to have the door silently swing closed behind him. Oh the racket that followed.
Her children, there had been seven, sadly only six remained, and those that did, with obvious well meant intention and finite laziness, felt it best that the old lady moved from her home of sixty odd years, to a retirement village where things like ‘inside toilets’ and ‘other people your age’ happened.
The day her whelps all plodded through her door, unannounced, ‘of course we told you we were coming Mother’ surrounded her, leading her to her kitchen table (memories of skinned rabbits dressed for a lovely pie), making tea with her best china (how mother wept when I unwrapped it at my wedding breakfast), and placed her in elderly husband, now loving memories, chair (stitching his hand after cutting himself shearing, bloody ram’s) , and not her own (made with his hands in the old shed up the paddock). Smiling at them all in her way, she said “Your Father won’t like me leaving” and loving memory, now spectral elderly husband, smiled back across the heads of those seated around her. “Mother it is for the best, you’ll be so much happier there” said a random lazy child, now middle aged man, and Father turned and walked to the kitchen door.
Which he slammed, unseen by all others.
Silence, “it’s just a breeze, now mother….” smiling at the love of his entire life, he slammed the door, again; and then once more for good measure. Enjoying the reaction, “try the light this time dear. Twice if you would be so good” she said; and he did.
Two years, one month, and eleven days later, she joined him, quietly passing away in her nuptial home, him beside her. To this day they still live in their house. Now with a beautiful young family, “and aren’t the children so lovely my dear.”
Click the picture my dears,
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