The Morning Sundowners
Photo by Thomas Stephan on Unsplash
Today, on the date of publication, it is International Day of Older Persons. I felt compelled, as a result, to share this story which I hope you will appreciate, just as I hope we appreciate all the older people in our lives, particularly given the events of the past year.
Here’s to to the future and to more time with our elders, without whom, the future would not be possible…
Night-time. It was a distant memory for her as she sat outside a house she did not own, rented from a council she did not know, and who did not care if she passed away today or tomorrow. Long weeks passed by as she gazed at the vast vista of the run-down council street in front of her. She sighed, sipping her tea, or sundowner, as she preferred to call it, and reflecting on the usual routine which had become the highlight of her days, which grew both longer and shorter by each passing moment.
She mulled over past lives, past regrets. The regret of waking up that morning weighed heavily on her mind as she took another sip, looking up at the bird hovering above her. Might as well have been a vulture, looking to feed off the carcass that would surely take her place one day. Days flew by fast now, distant memories that seemed to fade into a haze she could barely recognize anymore as the sun beat down on her weary face.
Home time. A fleeting feeling of her mother telling her to be home before the sun went down. Running down the street, doing hopscotches as the boys leered at her from afar. She checked her watch. The sun still shone, as shadows leaned heavily around her, nothing moving much in the still, summer air as a far off murmur of children playing filled the air around her.
She sat there for a while, moving her leg absently as ants crawled around her feet. She dare not go out at night now. The night, as deep and tempting as it was, was now filled with boys playing. Boys who now played men. Drunkards who leered in windows they did not own. People in Halloween costumes. Memories of more primitive times as men went out of their minds, drink coursing through their veins and filling floodplains with craziness and icebergs of hate; all over in the morning but leaving their bitter aftertaste like a sunken ship full of soot and coal.
She hated it. Hated being a prisoner in her own home as the blare of the TV shone like a lamp in the room, scaring away the darkness that wanted to consume her and leave her with sunken eyes that stared into the waiting abyss. An abyss she longed to fill but could not, just yet. All she had now were far-away memories which clung on by threads she had long forgotten to sew or even knew how to anymore. Memories of family and friends all long-gone, except for the occasional visitor who she did not even recognize anymore.
She began to smile, however, as a lone butterfly landed near her and preened its wings, seeming golden in the sunlight. She moved her hand towards it, and it seemed to dance in front of her. A ladybird landed on her, and she smiled broadly as it made itself comfortable on her arm, and for the first time, in a long time, she felt at peace with the world; her two friends making themselves comfortable as she drifted off into a long and carefree sleep. One she might never wake from, but she did not care anymore.
Her arms went limp, and the butterfly and ladybird stayed with her for a while as the sun went down on another long and hot day.
A Sundown day.
The End.