Business As Usual

Henry woke at 7:05am, on the dot, and reached out to the bedside table for his glasses. He got up, stuffing his feet into his old, worn slippers, brushed his teeth, and headed downstairs.

The sun was just starting to rise, and the air was still chilly, but his flannel pajamas kept him warm. He put the kettle on to boil, and set about making pancakes.

By the time he was done, his wife had appeared at the kitchen table. She gave him a warm smile as he set the steaming plate in front of her, taking his seat on the opposite side. This had been their routine for nearly 30 years, and he took comfort in its familiarity.

He picked up the day's paper, and they spent the next few minutes discussing the news, and basking in each other's company.

When they had finished eating, he went back upstairs to dress, kissed his wife on the cheek, and headed out into the garden.

The sun had risen to the tips of the trees at the end of the yard, scattering sunbeams across the grass.

His wife's rose bushes, once beautifully sculpted, were starting to look a bit unkempt, so that's where he resolved to start his work. She used to spend hours tending to them, but since she'd got sick she hadn't been able to get out into the garden much.

He hoped tidying them up for her would make her happy. When he looked back at the house, she was sitting on the deck with a cup of tea, watching him with a smile.

A couple long hours later and he took a step back to admire his work. It wasn't nearly as good as Madeline could have done, but at least the roses looked like they were well cared for. He made his way over to the deck, where she gave him a sweet smile and an expression of gratitude, which he gently waved away.

By that time the sun was spreading a pleasant warmth over them, so they resolved to have lunch outside. The birdsong provided a pleasant backdrop to their conversation as they reminisced over their younger days.

Their son would be stopping by later to say hello. They didn't use to catch up much, but recently he'd made a point of stopping by at least once a week. It was nice getting to hear about his family and how he was doing at work. They were so proud of their boy.

Sometimes he brought along his wife and young daughter, which always delighted Madeline to no end. She was such a sweet little thing, with her mother's face and her father's eyes. Henry’s heart would always swell as he watched his wife tenderly braiding his granddaughter’s auburn hair, the same colour Madeline's had been when he'd first met her, before it had become streaked with grey.

The house would feel full again, like it did when their children were still small and the family would come together for celebrations.

Though, as much as he enjoyed their visits, they would often leave him exhausted. He wasn't nearly as young as he used to be. The emptiness of the house after their departure would rapidly revert back into its usual calm, quiet atmosphere which he and his wife so treasured.

He knew his son worried that they were lonely with it being just the two of them, but at this age they were both content to just spend their days with each other. He couldn't have found anyone better to spend his retirement with.

Determined to get more gardening done before he arrived, Henry pulled his gardening gloves back on and made a start on the vegetable patch. It hadn't been very successful recently, but he was hopeful he could get more out of it before winter hit. So far he'd only managed to get a handful of skinny carrots for his efforts.

—

The garden was taking on a golden glow when Henry finally heard the knock at the front door. He dusted himself off, removing his soil coated gloves and dropping them by the backdoor on his way in.

Opening the door revealed his son at the doorstep, a small shopping bag slung over his arm.

“Simon! Come in, come in. Don't forget to wipe your feet on the way in.”

Simon dutifully wiped his shoes on the doormat before stepping into the house, shutting the door behind him and giving Henry a quick hug. “Hey Dad, how're you doing? I bought some groceries, I thought I might make you dinner tonight.”

“That's very kind of you, you know you don't have to do that. Here, come sit.”

He sat at the table whilst Simon shrugged out of his coat, placing the groceries on the kitchen bench.

“I know I don't, but I worry about you out here by yourself. I at least want to make sure you're eating well.”

“Nonsense, I'm eating just fine. You make it sound like we're incapable of caring for ourselves. I'm doing just fine.”

Simon sat down in the chair next to him, rather than Madeline's usual seat. “I'm glad to hear it. You seem to be coping well, considering.” He gave a tender smile that made Henry's chest ache.

“Oh you worry too much! We're fine living by ourselves. Infact, your mother was just saying this morning-”

Simon's face took on such a serious expression that Henry stopped in his tracks. He went back over what he had just said, but he couldn't fathom what it was that changed his son's mood so suddenly.

Simon reached out his hand and rested it so gently on Henry's arm that he barely felt its touch.

“Dad,” his face held more concern than Henry could bear to stand. His voice was so soft when he continued.

“Mum's dead. She died two months ago, remember?”

Henry started away so suddenly he nearly overturned his chair. He looked at the table, where a plate of pancakes still sat, stodgy, and untouched.