The withered woman steps carefully out of her tattered old house. She uses a wooden cane to guide her steps. Her light pink slippers shuffle softly against the floorboards causing a discord of friction. She makes it down three timbered steps, shuffling her feet closer to the lawn.
She uses the cane to push around the blades of grass, that is now a few inches too tall. It looks like the gardner failed to keep is weekly visit. Too bad she paid him a month in advance. He’ll come, she thinks to herself, looking forward to his weekly visit.
It’s not really a visit. More like a short, “Hello,” hand shake and “ Can I help you with something before I leave?” She assures him that she is fine but appreciates the gesture. She makes a point to ask him about school and how his mother is doing, “Tell you mother I said hello for me, “ she gestures with her soft hands held together by paper skin. The hand isn’t able to rise above her shoulder.
The old woman continues searching through the grass. She uses the metal part of her wooden cane in order to find the right spot. Then, some how, by using some of her limited strength she finds it. The perfect hiding ground for worms.
The woman bends down, slowly, using her cane to steady her on the way down. The worms have found her and are now running scared, deeper into the ground. Before they can escape, with a quick flick of the wrist the old woman picks up as many worms as she can and places them in the front pocket of her dress. She’s only able to capture five before noticing her knees about to give out.
Her knees can barely hold her. She finds a way to balance herself with help from the cane. Again, similar to her movements earlier, she uses all her strength to start her way up the stairs. Each time she does thinking it will be her last. For, not only are her ending days becoming near, but so is her ability to pick worms.
The withered woman makes her way back up the stairs. Her knees more achy and stiff than on the way down. She stops at the last step to take a rest. A neighbor walks by giving a friendly nod.
She thinks about the time when she was young. In those times, the only polite way to greet an elder was to stop and strike up a conversation. Now the world is so distant. The withered woman doesn’t even know her neighbors. Knowing your neighbors back then was the only way to keep the neighborhood safe. She was born in a dangerous time, a time where community was what gave the people strength.
Again, she musters the strength to climb the last step before reaching the front door. A gust of wind helps by swinging the door wide open with its mighty force. She sees the end goal, the worms becoming livelier in her pocket.
The doorway to the back porch is glowing from the outside in. The other side of the house, light shooting from the door window. The woman shuffles across the creaky floor boards as fast as she can. Her favorite part of the day greets her with the smell of beautiful roses, succulents, and flowers for all imagination.
It’s a secret garden. A beautiful lustrous place of vibrant color and blooming life. The withered woman reaches deep into her pocket and retrieves the five worms. She uses as much force as she can to throw the worms into the garden.
Just then, a blue bird appears. It flies into the garden and swoops up the first worm. The woman smiles at the blue bird, “Well hello Mr. blue bird! It’s so good to see you.”
Everyday that the blue bird comes to visit, she is overcome with joy. “Oh, how I have missed you,” she whispers softly. The blue bird comes closer, landing on the deck. It stays just long enough to flap its wings, then back to the garden. She smiles knowing Mr. blue bird is happy.
Mr. blue bird is the name she used to call her husband Warren. He passed away suddenly of a heart attack. He promised he would make it to their 60th anniversary. He never broke a promise until that day. He died only six days before. Leaving her with an empty, cold, silent house. She knew it wasn’t Warren’s fault, breaking his promise, but somehow, him leaving made it all the more painful.
Until, on the day of their anniversary, the blue bird appeared. She watched as he danced frantically around the garden looking for something. She wanted so desperately to help the blue bird, but what did he want?
Only after he was exhausted did he find what he was looking for. He plunged his beak deep into the ground to uncover, a worm.
Ever since that day she vowed to make his life a little easier. No matter how tired or achy she was, she goes to the front yard to find worms, and hand delivers them to the blue bird. He is her last joy and only friend. The one who keeps her company and in some way, the one to fulfill Warren’s promise….
