Stagnant air-filled Cora’s lungs. Her mind grasped at the faint memories lingering around the house. The dining room filled with reminiscence of their children, sometimes laughing hysterically, sometimes arguing endlessly. The huge table, the aroma of Sunday lunch, and Tom, her Tom, telling them all to shush.
With eyes closed, the thought of Tom caused a faint smile on her lips, a comfort in her loneliness. The memories of him with his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him at night, whispering “I love you Cora” both comforted and haunted her.
The house was hollow now, except for Cora’s shuffling down the passage and the tiniest sounds that a frail, lonely old woman can make. Nodding off in front of the TV was a common occurrence, waking now and then to see if there was a message for her. It took a while to get used to the cell phone the kids gave her. She always smiled when someone thought to send her a message. She excused them for, not doing so often enough; they were all professionals and very busy, after all.
Toms heart attack came as a terrible shock to her. Still thinking about it now, fifteen years later caused her to wrap her arms around herself and sob uncontrollably. He was a good husband; he provided for his family, and the bed was always warm.
He loved her, and she loved him; that was all that mattered to her. “I love you Cora” she let the words fill her mind in the evenings when sleep evaded her. The memories kept her alive. She heard Tom in her dreams again tonight, this time she saw him, his hand outstretched. She reached out to rest her frail hand in his…
“I love you Cora, come, it’s time to go.”
I am often prompted to write little stories about people I know or know of. Sometimes it is someone I noticed in a restaurant or in a queue. The stories that my mind conjures up about people may be far off the mark or may be close to what is happening in their lives. Who is to know? Anyway, I thought I’d share some of my amateur stories on my blog.
Hope* the happy hugger 