They planned to go out for dinner tonight at a quiet restaurant they both enjoyed and even though it was their anniversary, they were still going to work in the garden after breakfast, while the summer air was still relatively cool. Several large rocks and bags of rich soil, which they had purchased from their local nursery, had arrived yesterday. They were going to create a large mound in the centre of the garden and plant some pumpkin, squash and cucumber seeds amidst the rocks and fresh dirt; as well as beautiful flowers they liked to reap the rewards of a nutricious vegetable garden. He knew it would be hard work but he'd never shied away from hard work; he believed it was one of the reasons for his longevity and being relatively in good shape.
The old man smiled as he stood up, walked over to the kitchen counter and put four pieces of homemade bread into the toaster. Continuing to hum the same little ditty he was humming before, he poured the coffee while he waited for the toast to pop up. After he'd lathered the toast with butter, he placed it on a serving tray alongside a jar of marmalade, a tiny pitcher of milk and a small bowl of sugar; his wife liked her coffee with lots of milk and sugar but not him; he preferred his black.
Before heading to the bedroom, the old man opened the patio door and cut a single red rose from a thorny rose bush, which was growing in a large circular planter made of stones. Placing it on the serving tray across some white paper napkins, checking to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, he then carefully lifted the tray and slowly made his way down the hall past the bathroom to their bedroom. Nudging the partially open door with his foot he made his way quietly over to his wife’s side of the bed and carefully placed the tray on her small night table.
The room was still quite dark, so the old man opened the long curtains and watched the sun stream in, cutting a wide swath of light across the bed. He looked down at his wife as she lay on her back with her large blue eyes wide open. He was about to say something but on closer observation, noticed she wasn’t blinking from the bright sunlight. He stood quietly beside the bed looking down at her and thinking how beautiful she was and how much she meant to him. He longed for her to say something - anything – even a smile would do but she just laid there, unseeing; staring up at the ceiling.
A tear trickled down the old man’s face, lingered in a deep wrinkle and then dripped off his chin onto the bed. Choking back a loud sob, he bent down and gently closed her eyes with his finger tips. After kissing her affectionately on the lips, he placed her hands together on her chest and slipped the rose between her long slender fingers. He then pulled a chair over and sat down beside her, tears now flowing in torrents down his old weathered cheeks. How long he sat there, he hadn’t noticed, not until the sun began to set. Glancing about the room, the long shadows casting intricate patterns across the bed and walls, he got up from the chair and quietly said, “It’s time to start working in the garden."
To be continued...
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