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It began with an autumn breeze that rolled down the waking suburban street, carrying leaves of various hues of orange and red. There was a nip to it, not uncommon for the time of year but one that was easily thwarted by a sweater or fuzzy housecoat much like the one Gladys wore now. The soft purple fabric, faded with age, was wrapped tightly around her frail body as she settled into an old rocking chair protecting her from what chill the morning had to offer. Coffee cup in hand, she watched patiently for the lives of her neighbors to start. A pastime that she enjoyed immensely alongside her husband Henry.
A few doors down, across the street, a small group of three children poured out of the house diving into the pile of leaves they had made the day prior. Laughter filled the silence of the neighborhood. "Dear," Gladys began as was customary for their relationship, her doing majority of the talking, "Don't you remember when our boys would kick up a storm like that? How often you would have to go back out and re-rake the leaves!"
The memory played in her head like a short film. The leaves that would be stuck in their hair, the laughter that came from them as she fussed over pulling them out chasing them around the house. The hot chocolate they would demand while her poor husband would have to go back out and put all the leaves back into their respective pile to be bagged, a chore that was supposed to be the boys'. Lord knows they played more often than they should have. And while parts of these memories were so crisp she could have sworn they were made mere days ago, chunks of them were becoming grainy and faded. A reminder of the years that had come to pass since her children had grown up and moved on.
"It always feels like it was yesterday," she commented, idly taking a sip of the hot liquid in her mug, "But I suppose that's how time works. Constantly marching on while we desperately hold on to what memories we are able to make."
A car sped down the street, pulling to a quick stop in front of the house next door, music blaring out of its open windows causing the children to stop in their play and stare. "There's that heathen Sarah Mitchels is dating. I talked to her mother the other day, while she was out tending their flower beds trying to get a head start on preparing them for winter, and she told me that boy didn't even finish highschool! I have no idea what Sarah is thinking, she's such a smart girl and a wonderful babysitter to our grandkids. But, it oddly reminds me of our oldest and how much of a 'bad boy' he wanted to be. Wasn't it this time of year that he got into an accident on that death trap of a dirt bike you got him for his birthday trying to impress, oh who was it," taking another sip, Gladys prodded deep into her memories. "Allison Smith! That's who he was trying to awe. Can't believe she ended up dating him for awhile, our Jeremy almost broke his arm that day with his recklessness."
Gladys watched as Sarah left her house, practically running to the car before jumping in and just as fast as that car had arrived, it left. Shaking her head lightly, she turned her attention to her own yard as the kids down the street began to play again. Slowly she took mental note of the work that needed to be done. Her own flower beds needed tending and the leaves needed to be raked. It was going to be a long day, but luckily there would be help.
Just then a deep blue SUV pulled onto the street, it slowly moved towards the house before pulling into the driveway. The back doors were thrown open while children poured out of the backseat with smiles as wide as their faces would allow. "Grandma!" Was the chorus in which they chose to announce their arrival. Setting her mug on the small table between her and Henry's chairs, she pulled herself into a standing position, arms opened wide as small bodies collided with her.
"Take it easy you two!" Christine, her daughter in law called out as she pulled some bags from the back. Her son Micheal, as Jeremy was out of town for work, was already punching in the code for the garage. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought stuff over to make lunch later."
"That's perfectly fine Chrissy, I suspect you all have had breakfast then?" Her eyes turned to her beautiful grandchildren, her heart so full of love and yet still breaking. The two of them nodded before running off to help their parents as they were instructed.
"Mom," Micheal began, leaning on the post of the porch, "It's a bit cold for you to be out doing this. Your age is getting up there, whether you like to admit it or not, and you are more susceptible to illnesses."
"You may be a doctor," Gladys responded, picking up her mug, "But for fifty years I spent my morning with your father on a porch and even though he left us three years ago, I have no plans on ever missing a morning. After all, who is going to keep him up to date?" Her words had been soft as she longingly looked at the empty chair in which Henry would sit with his newspaper while she prattled on about everything and anything.
"Grandma, can you make us your hot chocolate?" Attention shifting to the small family that stood in front of her, she silently said her goodbyes with promises of showing up the next morning to fulfill the tradition they had started so many years ago. Ushering them inside, she cherished the sounds of her house sounding full once more intent on making enough memories that her late husband could share from his place in heaven where he looked down on them all.
A few doors down, across the street, a small group of three children poured out of the house diving into the pile of leaves they had made the day prior. Laughter filled the silence of the neighborhood. "Dear," Gladys began as was customary for their relationship, her doing majority of the talking, "Don't you remember when our boys would kick up a storm like that? How often you would have to go back out and re-rake the leaves!"
The memory played in her head like a short film. The leaves that would be stuck in their hair, the laughter that came from them as she fussed over pulling them out chasing them around the house. The hot chocolate they would demand while her poor husband would have to go back out and put all the leaves back into their respective pile to be bagged, a chore that was supposed to be the boys'. Lord knows they played more often than they should have. And while parts of these memories were so crisp she could have sworn they were made mere days ago, chunks of them were becoming grainy and faded. A reminder of the years that had come to pass since her children had grown up and moved on.
"It always feels like it was yesterday," she commented, idly taking a sip of the hot liquid in her mug, "But I suppose that's how time works. Constantly marching on while we desperately hold on to what memories we are able to make."
A car sped down the street, pulling to a quick stop in front of the house next door, music blaring out of its open windows causing the children to stop in their play and stare. "There's that heathen Sarah Mitchels is dating. I talked to her mother the other day, while she was out tending their flower beds trying to get a head start on preparing them for winter, and she told me that boy didn't even finish highschool! I have no idea what Sarah is thinking, she's such a smart girl and a wonderful babysitter to our grandkids. But, it oddly reminds me of our oldest and how much of a 'bad boy' he wanted to be. Wasn't it this time of year that he got into an accident on that death trap of a dirt bike you got him for his birthday trying to impress, oh who was it," taking another sip, Gladys prodded deep into her memories. "Allison Smith! That's who he was trying to awe. Can't believe she ended up dating him for awhile, our Jeremy almost broke his arm that day with his recklessness."
Gladys watched as Sarah left her house, practically running to the car before jumping in and just as fast as that car had arrived, it left. Shaking her head lightly, she turned her attention to her own yard as the kids down the street began to play again. Slowly she took mental note of the work that needed to be done. Her own flower beds needed tending and the leaves needed to be raked. It was going to be a long day, but luckily there would be help.
Just then a deep blue SUV pulled onto the street, it slowly moved towards the house before pulling into the driveway. The back doors were thrown open while children poured out of the backseat with smiles as wide as their faces would allow. "Grandma!" Was the chorus in which they chose to announce their arrival. Setting her mug on the small table between her and Henry's chairs, she pulled herself into a standing position, arms opened wide as small bodies collided with her.
"Take it easy you two!" Christine, her daughter in law called out as she pulled some bags from the back. Her son Micheal, as Jeremy was out of town for work, was already punching in the code for the garage. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought stuff over to make lunch later."
"That's perfectly fine Chrissy, I suspect you all have had breakfast then?" Her eyes turned to her beautiful grandchildren, her heart so full of love and yet still breaking. The two of them nodded before running off to help their parents as they were instructed.
"Mom," Micheal began, leaning on the post of the porch, "It's a bit cold for you to be out doing this. Your age is getting up there, whether you like to admit it or not, and you are more susceptible to illnesses."
"You may be a doctor," Gladys responded, picking up her mug, "But for fifty years I spent my morning with your father on a porch and even though he left us three years ago, I have no plans on ever missing a morning. After all, who is going to keep him up to date?" Her words had been soft as she longingly looked at the empty chair in which Henry would sit with his newspaper while she prattled on about everything and anything.
"Grandma, can you make us your hot chocolate?" Attention shifting to the small family that stood in front of her, she silently said her goodbyes with promises of showing up the next morning to fulfill the tradition they had started so many years ago. Ushering them inside, she cherished the sounds of her house sounding full once more intent on making enough memories that her late husband could share from his place in heaven where he looked down on them all.