24
Short Story
The warm early afternoon sun shone through the living room window illuminating the even the far dark corner. It was only at this time of year when the room seemed to come alive with light. Mary was taking her post lunch nap in her favourite armchair when she could feel the Sun’s rays warming first her arm, then, going across her right shoulder and reaching her face. The strong light made Mary’s face look younger than her 83 years as all the wrinkles seemingly disappeared like a miracle cream sold in the large department store in the centre of town. This gentle warming and sense of bright light coming through her loosely closed eyes awoke Mary with a sense of well being and that the world was a beautiful place or at least it was today.
Mary lived alone in her own home that she had shared for almost sixty years with her late husband. He had died six years previously after a prolonged and devastating illness that had taken its toll on both of them. He had suffered the worst fate but she was left to pick up the pieces and to struggle on her own with very little help from her own children and grandchildren. Her neighbours and friends were able to help but as time wore on they had drifted away to carry on with their own lives. The house had become too big for her to fully use herself and she had practically lived downstairs for the past year only venturing upstairs to use the bathroom. She had got her son to move the bedroom downstairs and convert the back reception room into a comfortable space for her to sleep in, with the front room being used as a day room. The whole house was falling into disrepair and needed a lick of paint at the very least. It hadn’t been properly decorated since the late 1980’s so it looked very neglected but at the same time it felt lived in.
The house, or at least the downstairs, was cluttered as between Mary and her husband they had kept too many mementos of trips, things the kids and grandkids had made, keepsakes and the like. It looked like almost all the available shelf space was taken up with something which either Mary couldn’t be bothered to move to dust or took too much effort to do. However, Mary kept certain treasures free from dust normally items linked to her husband and her children.
There was a gold photo frame, which had the sun glinting off the frame and sending a reflection from the glass across the room, sat on the mantelpiece of her wedding day. She still remembered that day with mixed feelings. She missed her husband very dearly and stroked his face on the photo recalling the way he had kissed her and held her in his strong embrace. She could almost smell the Brylcream that he had used everyday until he no longer had hair to bother styling. She spent part of each day just staring at this particular photograph reminiscing about past times. As she would potter around the house she would find something with a strong memory attached whether it was a pebble from the beach at Brighton found whilst on holiday in 1954 or a drawing from her youngest grandchild.
Mary struggled to remember which day was which as they all seemed to blend together without a determining feature of any given day. Her children were too busy leading their own lives to be overly concerned about their mother. In fact when their father had died they had suggested that she moved into a nursing home. Mary had told them exactly what she thought of that idea and was convinced that they would sell everything off so they could be debt free and relinquish any responsibility for her care. This led to the family not communicating as well as it could and the fact that none of Mary’s kin lived locally confounded this.
Mary felt like she had cut herself off to the world as she no longer watched television. It had become too fast, loud and garish and she could no longer follow any programme properly not even the news. She still listened to the radio occasionally but she couldn’t remember the schedule so she quite often missed her favourites which left bewildered and disorientated. Mary was convinced that everything was being made by and for the young people and by young she meant teenagers. The local bowls club still contacted Mary but since she was unable to bend down without needed some assistance to get up again she hadn’t seen anyone from the club for about six months. Many of her friends had died or gone into homes but Mary steadfastly refused to join them. Her only regular contact was with meals on wheels but the latest cuts had reduced these visits to four a week with two days worth of meals on each trip.
Mary was becoming frailer by the day, not that she noticed as she barely looked in a mirror as she didn’t like the wrinkled old woman looking back at her, and was beset by asthma but she still managed to wash and cook for herself. Her daughters youngest would come visit once a month to help with the payment of bills and any other odd jobs but these visits lasted less and less over time as other interests arose. This was the only one of the family Mary trusted with money, especially as her eldest son was still chasing women round even though was old enough to be some of these girls father if not grandfather and her daughter was in an unhappy relationship and needed money to help escape her mundane existence.
Mary rose out of the chair and wandered slowly into the kitchen. She reached her hand out and turned the tap on. This seemed to be getting harder to do each day and the effort required to do this could lead to her being short of breath for a few seconds. While the tap was running she placed the kettle under it to get enough water for her afternoon cup of tea.
Sitting, Waiting