By Tess M Shepherd
A lifetime, not months, had brought her to this final season. Old-woman’s bones in the chair by the window. Shrouded in blankets like the garden’s blanket of snow. Everything she once was shrunk to bare monotony. Even the memories dwindled. Without them, why live?
Outside, a flash of fire. An ember glowing amid winter’s decay. Her robin, like a symbol, sparking faded recollections into brighter hues. Children playing, before they flew the nest. Her husband, gardening beside her while he lived.
“Feed my birds,” she told the visiting carer. Then smiled …
Ever faithful, the garden still gave her a purpose.
Tess M Shepherd is currently working on two full-length historical novels. It has always been a dream of hers to be a published author.