Yesterday
It was late in the afternoon, the sun casting hazy beams of light through my dusty window; it spilled off my windowsill and crept over the carpet towards my still figure. I was lying on the floor, not for any particular reason, waiting for the call that I simultaneously anticipated and dreaded. Maybe, if she never called, I could forget what was happening and walk outside into the sunshine. My phone lit up and began buzzing against my chest. I hesitantly answered and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?” I ask. “This is Owen”. I hear muffled conversation, then my Granny says, “Hello? Hello? Oh, hi...” A long pause draws out the silence. She continues, “How’s the weather down in Colorado?” I reply that yes indeed, the weather is good. I maintained the light conversation while ignoring her rasping breath which invaded my thoughts. She repeats, “Hi Owen. How’s the weather down where you are?” Confused at first, I politely repeated my answer. She had been sick. The sickness was not of days, or of months, but of years. There were surgeries, and there were yet more surgeries. They opened and closed her heart like a zipper until it finally broke. The ventilator which kept her alive slowly suffocated her mind, until it was exhausted; just like our final conversation. We talked about the weather, what sports I was doing, and the price of produce, repeatedly, until the words were worn out; as if taken from the pages of a well-worn book. Her book is now closed, but I still remember. I will always remember.
