Molly

Molly looks around as she turns the page on her calendar.

It has been a year since she put her initials on the windowsill by the wall where it hangs. A year! A full year has gone by, and not much has changed.

The old woman closes her eyes to better reminisce.

Spring had just sprung, when the old woman living alone in a small farmhouse first heard of the pandemic. It was happening miles away yet gave her the creeps.

What if it should spread? What if it would reach our country? What if…?

For a moment, she remained silent. Scenes like no other kept streaming in her mind. She remembered her people telling horrific stories about the Hong Kong flue, and suddenly a shiver went down her spine. She tried to imagine what it would be like to live through a new pandemic… but could not.

With her darning needle, she scratched the date on her windowsill.

Then, she went out to pick up everything she needed for months to come.

Days went by, and soon new measures had to be taken to prevent the spread of the terrible virus. Molly submitted to instructions given by Public Health officials. She even went beyond.

From this moment, her small house became a sanctuary where she vowed no virus would enter. She would isolate from the world in a manner no one else could.

Setting her computer and television set as her ultimate means of keeping contact with the world, the old lady locked the door to her humble home. She would not go out nor let anyone in before this terrible mess was over.

 Little did she know just how long it would last.

The first weeks went by quite easily. She was used at being alone. Having lived a full life, she had travelled abroad many times. It was now only a few years since she had bought what she called her little piece of heaven. She enjoyed living alone in her tiny farmhouse with only Tom to keep her company.

Tom was a full-grown orange Tabby she had rescued by the side of the road on her way to market, one Saturday morning.

Now, with lots to eat and plenty to keep Tom from starving, she settled behind locked doors for the run.

Days turned into weeks… and weeks into months, as Molly and Tom pursued their journey. It was now almost summer.

Every day, Molly and Tom would spend some time in the garden growing vegetables and gathering the few fresh eggs their three hens still laid on a regular basis. Then, they would come back in and lock the door behind them.

Everything was well, except for the daily news update that informed them about the grim situation of the world. The virus had spread worldwide and continued its ravage everywhere it could.

The food supply was still hanging good due to Molly’s watchful eye; and with the promise of a good harvest, they would probably survive quite a while yet.

Summer turned into fall. No one had yet knocked on the door except a peddler once… and Molly had remained quiet. The man had simply turned and walked away.

The days were somewhat colder when the old lady finished bringing in the firewood.

She started knitting socks to keep her feet warm during the long winter nights. She even made a new blanket for Tom.

The colorful leaves had now fallen from the trees and Molly had a lot to write about in her diary. Tom was content to roll in a ball at her feet.

As the days got shorter, Molly began to feel lonely. She could not explain this feeling as she had lived by herself most of her life. She enjoyed the peaceful and quiet life that only Tom shared with her. However, this time it felt different.

She soon realized it was not so much being alone that gave her the blues… as being confined to her home out of her will. The whole world seemed to have come to a stop. Nothing was the same. Even the newscast seemed to be different. Streets were bare and empty. Whenever people happened to be in the picture, they seemed suspicious of each other. Everyone wore a mask above which two scared eyes watched warily all around.

With the first snowflakes, Molly decided to settle in for the winter. She would no longer go for a walk in her backyard. She was simply not interested. Everything seemed to be leaking out of her normal self.

Winter settled in. Molly very seldom watched the news or even listen to the radio. Instead, she played music of times gone by. Only occasionally would she check on the world situation… and only to learn that things got worse.

However, all was well in her very own bubble. Tom was content and she managed to stay as positive as she could.

The long winter months lingered on. Molly got up late and went to bed early to shorten the days as best she could.

When the sun got warmer, the old lady new spring would come at last.

Like the bear getting out of its den she watched the snow melt away. Never had she appreciated her muddy driveway in such a way. As the sun warmed her old bones she seemed to be coming back to life. Tom did the same, stretching and purring in the patch of sunshine coming in from the window.

Then one day, she put on the radio and heard the good news. A vaccine had been found.

She turned on the TV for the evening news. Even the masks on people’s faces seemed more colorful. The streets were starting to live again… slowly, but surely.

Molly pinched herself to make sure she was still alive. Then she reached out to turn the page on her calendar and realized it was March. One whole year had passed since she had scratched the date on the windowsill.

Would there be a new tomorrow?