Through the window, she watches the world awaken. Darkness that once blanketed the world peels back, the lemon yellow head of the sun peaks between the trees, checking to see if it was okay to get out of bed. Birds respond, spinning from their nests to scour the dew damp grass for a tasty morsel. She can not hear them, this side of the window, but she imagines their banter, like mothers at the grocery store, updating each other on their young, in their throaty song.
A neighbor exits his house, briefcase and trash bag in one hand, coffee and a donut precariously held in another. He wobbles a bit, but lets the bag slip to the curb, spinning to make sure he does not spill as the weight evens out. She squints as the taillights on his car flare red in the semi dark dawn, then he is gone.
Between the bushes, a shaggy dog pokes his nose into her yard, then pushes through, the damp leaves matting its fur. Giving a shake, he sprinkle the grass, then squats to leave a steaming pile of excrement. Finished he sniffs around until satisfied, then makes his way home. His owners will feign obliviousness, pleased that their own yard is clean.
Cars begin passing in more regular intervals, doors opening, people moving, rushing into whatever the day has in store for them. Boys and girls, laden with backpacks bigger than themselves, mingle in a group, in the driveway two doors down. Laughter fills their face as they chide one another. She watches all of this, behind the glass, until the world regains its stillness.
How long has it been?, the voice in her head asks, as it does every morning, knowing there will be no response. The truth hurts too much to embrace. She turns her back on the world, that first turned away from her, making her way slowly up the stairs to her room. Tomorrow, she will return to window, if nothing else to remind herself she is not alone.
On the landing, she pauses to catch her breath and run a finger down a picture of her family. The smiles on their faces tell her they are happy. At least they were last Christmas when the picture was taken, she thinks. The grandchildren are getting big and soon enough they will have families to keep them busy. It is not that they don't love her, they are just busy.
Continuing into her room, she lays on the bed, letting her bones settle into semi comfort with a sigh. Pulling a blanket across her body, to fight the chill, she starts to drift off to sleep when the crash of breaking glass shatters the silence, followed by the tinkling of shards hitting the floor. A hurricane of sound commences as furniture creeches, bucking against shoves, things fall in dull thumps, voices shout angry direction.
Heart stammering, she pushes herself weakly into a sitting position, heavy booted feet pound the same stairs she had ascended. Rounding the door frame, two men, heads hooded, except for their eys, stop, surprised to see someone actually lives there. No one moves, for a breath, each measuring the other's intentions.
A hard click echoes off the walls as her frail thumb drives back the hammer of a Remington pistol, that was once her husband's, and giving her best grandmotherly smile, she speaks for the first time in months to another person,"I just wanted to say how thankful I am that someone finally came to see me."
Silence lies broken, once more.
This is a 10DOM Magpie Tale.