Twilight Time

"Madeleine?" the young nurse asked as she approached the old woman sitting by her window.

It was late in the evening, and Madeleine Barton wasn't in bed. The nurse scratched her head in worry, wondering how to get her ward to sleep. She checked on her when she clocked in for the night—9 o'clock, on the dot, Madeleine was fast asleep with the blanket pulled up to her chin.

Now, she was staring out the window again. The nurse had looked out so many times and saw nothing of interest out there—the backyard, an old withering tree, four birdbaths that needed some thorough cleaning, and an overgrown path. Still, the old woman absolutely loved looking out of this window. And only this window. There was one other in her room on the other side that looked out to the street and the scenic view of an ice-capped mountain in the distance. Why Madeleine wanted the poorer option, she'd never understand.

"Madeleine," the nurse spoke softly, touching the old woman on the back of her hand. "It's 3:35 in the morning. You must go back to bed."

Madeleine didn't even look at her; she continued to stare out of the window. She'd be turning 98 next week which meant it'd be 27 years since she was diagnosed with dementia. She fought hard at first, but the disease that ravaged her was cruel and aggressive. It did not take too long before she started forgetting her own name.

When the young nurse was hired, Madeleine was already incontinent and bed-ridden for most of the day. Whenever the old woman had the lucidity for it, she would get up from bed and go over to the only spot in her house that she preferred above all else. And if the clarity held on for just a little longer, Madeleine would even sing.

"Heavenly shades of night are falling... It's twilight time."

The nurse smiled: if Madeleine was singing, then that means she may be able to understand it if she talked to her.

"Madeleine," she tried again. "It's really late. You should get some sleep so you're ready for tomorrow."

Madeleine turned towards the nurse. "Jenny," she said. "It's so nice to see you again."

Jenny's smile grew bigger. Madeleine remembered her!

"Yes, it's me. I am happy to see you, too. Did you hear what I said about going to sleep?"

Madeleine sighed, and then nodded her head. "And you probably don't mean tomorrow. Do you mean later? It's 3 AM, you said."

"Oh, goodness. Silly me. I'm sorry about that."

Madeleine shook her head. "No, my dear. I should be sorry. My burdensome old self can be too much. Would you please help me?"

Jenny held Madeleine's hand with her right as she put the left around her back to support her. Slowly, they walked over to her bed. Madeleine's plush slippers made shuffling noises in the otherwise quiet house.

"Have I ever told you how I met my husband, Jenny?"

Madeleine had, in fact, told Jenny this story many times. If the nurse had kept count, it would be in the six hundreds. But Jenny feigned ignorance and said no. Every single time that Madeleine got around to telling this specific moment of her life, it told her nurses that her lucidity was fading. Still, Jenny encouraged Madeleine to retell this story because it obviously brought her joy.

Jenny tucked Madeleine in and then sat beside her to listen.

"Maddy's Mittens was the name of my old bakery. Now it's Betty's Breads and Bagels right around the corner."

Jenny nodded. Betty was Madeleine's granddaughter. She was running their business now. There were four other branches in the city, one of which Jenny lived close to. She loved their apple cinnamon bagel, a recipe she later learned was Madeleine's own.

"I remember it like it happened yesterday. Gary came in with his head bowed low, flowers in hand. I never told him but I saw him and another woman from across the street. I think she dumped him. When she walked away, Gary stood right there where she left him, probably staring with his mouth wide open," Madeleine smiled. "And then that was it. When he turned his back on her and went into my store, he changed both our lives forever."

Jenny's eyes wandered over to a small framed photograph of a much younger Madeleine in a wedding dress outside a church, standing next to a handsome man whose arms were around her. They were smiling ear to ear.

"He was always the adventurer, Gary. Never afraid to take risks. I always called him a "Yes Man". He gave in to his impulses a lot. When he wanted a car, he'd save up and starve for a few days for it. I know everybody called him childish, but I just always saw him as someone who knew what he wanted and worked for it.

One day, he came back home with a family of ducks. He said he saw them wandering around homeless at the park," Madeleine laughed at this memory. "I told him to put them right back where he found them. The park was their home. And when he came back a second time, he had with him Roger, that old Rottweiler nobody wanted in the shelter. He'd been there eight years before Gary rescued him. They were inseparable. When Gary passed away, Roger went with him. Only six minutes apart."

Madeleine's eyes were getting heavy. She yawned and then pulled the blanket over her chest. This was Jenny's cue to leave. The short story of Madeleine and Gary's love always ended with Gary and Roger's departure. Sometimes, the story was longer. On very rare occasions, it was a whole saga.

Jenny stood up to leave, careful not to make the bed squeak.

"One day, a door-to-door salesman came knocking. Gary and I were watching the Sunday show. Roger was sleeping on the floor," Madeleine added. Jenny stopped—surprised that Madeleine was still talking and amused at this part of the story she had never heard before.

"Gary stood up to greet the man. I think his name was Mr. Garrison or Anderson. Gary asked him what he was selling. I remember already feeling worried because I knew my stupid husband was probably going to buy everything.

Turned out Mr. Garrison or Anderson was selling seeds. Can you imagine? Seeds. It was so funny. Now all of a sudden, my husband was a gardener. He bought a whole lot of them—sunflower, marigold, zinnia—the man went completely bonkers. When the salesman left, Gary rushed out the backdoor to our yard and dug up holes where he wanted to plant the flowers. I never really understood so much enthusiasm and joy packed in one human body, but I loved seeing so much of it shining through his face just the same. So, there I was, kneeling down on the ground with dirt up to my elbows. But Gary was happy, and so was I.

We divided the seeds between us two to plant faster. Gary covered the lot near the front, the part you see when you walk in here, and I did the back. When we were nearly finished, I noticed something in the small basket where we poured the seeds together.

I called him. Gary! Gary! I said. Come here and take a look! He came running, and in my palm I showed him. Gary, this is no flower seed. I recognize this from our old backyard in the province. It's a tree! Gary jumped in surprise. He said it felt like getting an extra gift with your purchase.

Together, we found a spot in the middle of the yard and planted it there. I remember him saying that he was so happy on that sunny day that he could sing.

And we both sang, Jenny. Everything was alright in that little world of ours. And in the days to come we watched that tree grow as our love did. When we had kids, they watered it, and when they had kids, they watered it. We spent summers sitting under the shade of that tree he called the Tree of Love. And every time we did, it always felt like nothing was wrong. That tree saw our pain and took them all away. It blew the wind in our face and dried our tears, and then wrapped its breeze around us like an invisible embrace."

Madeleine paused for a while and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes and looked out of her favorite window again. She smiled.

"Gary always used to sing me the same song we were singing the day we planted that tree."

Madeleine's breath hitched, and when she tried once more she started coughing.

"Madeleine?" Jenny asked, careful not to let her concern show. "Are you alright? You need to relax now. Take it easy."

Madeleine looked to be out of breath, but she didn't appear to be in pain, nor was she aware that every breath she took sounded like a whistle. Jenny responded quickly, turning Madeleine to her side to allow her struggling lungs to expand.

"Madeleine, I'm calling emergency. Please stay calm and don't fall asleep—"

But Madeleine was no longer there, only her body remained to go through the last motions it needed to before it laid quietly for eternity.

Madeleine was back on that warm, summer day in 1955, planting a tree in their backyard. She had on a yellow dress, as bright as the smile on Gary's face who was crooning like Bing Crosby.

Heavenly shades of night are falling. It's twilight time.

Madeleine shook her head, but she loved Gary's singing and they both knew it. In that dark room in the present, as Jenny moved as fast as she could to revive her patient, Madeleine was drifting off to a place she knew Gary waited.

She lifted her arm to the window where she could see their beloved tree looking in on her.

She could hear Gary singing.

But it was her turn now.

Out of the mist your voice is calling. It's twilight time.