For no particular reason - a short story!
SNOW MOUNTAINS
Gracie cradled the salt cellar in her hands, looking intently at the play of light on the silvery top. Carefully and deliberately she stretched her hand to the centre of the table and slowly tipped the salt cellar upside down. She watched the tiny white grains as they fell on the green tablecloth, forming a little pyramid among the clutter of tea things.
“Snow”, she said indistinctly. Her stroke hadn’t robbed her of her speech, but her words seemed indistinct, even to her. Her daughter, Melanie, watched the little scene playing out, feeling sad and rather helpless. This shell of the mother she had adored all her life was breaking her heart. How could Mum continue to live the life of independence she’d treasured. But perhaps the nursing home would be the right place. Perhaps.
The Matron was a kindly lady in her 50s with years of experience in care of the elderly. She chose her staff for their compassion as well as their competence. The Home was a delightful country house with only essential nods to its current purpose. The gardens were beautifully maintained with ramps and handrails where tremulous legs could walk safely. The two bedrooms she’d seen were homely, comfortable and spotlessly clean. The residents were clearly enjoying their afternoon tea and chatting about the choir coming to entertain them later.
Yes, it was perfect. But her Mum was a free spirit. How would she fit into this new life?
Melanie tried to imagine how it would be for Mum. She knew that if or when her own time came, she would enjoy the sense of security, of being looked after and the social events laid on. Melanie was a successful business woman, living on the twelfth floor of a modern block of flats in London. She loved the theatre, the art galleries, her frequent business trips to New York and the company of a large circle of friends. Her Mum had accepted Mel’s different way of life, but had no wish to be part of it except for an occasional shopping trip.
The mound of salt continued to grow until the salt cellar was empty. Gracie carefully replaced it on the table and repeated “Snow”.
Akitie, the care assistant, smiled.
“Snowdon?” she hazarded.
“Yes! Snow”. Gracie’s frail finger circling the green cloth, “Park”.
“Snowdon National Park!” Akitie grinned.
Gracie laughed in delight.
“My Mum used to love hiking in Snowdonia, didn’t you Mum?”
Gracie’s face lit up.
“Hiking and camping with Sidney”, she nodded.
Akitie nodded her understanding. She gently patted the top of Snowdon, flattening it slightly and looked at Gracie expectantly.
“Table Mountain”, shouted Gracie in recognition.
Akitie nodded again. “Yes”, she said, “My home country and the very best view in the world when you reach the top of the mountain."
Melanie watched, fascinated. Her Mum and Akitie were clearly in tune with each other, effortlessly spanning the 50 or 60 years difference in their ages. Akitie’s brown eyes shone as she listened to Gracie reminisce about her adventures in the wild places of Britain.
Much later, when tea was over and Melanie and Gracie had had a final stroll round the garden they sat in contented silence on one of the many comfortable seats in a sheltered corner.
Gracie, more lucid than she had been for weeks, said “I like Akitie. She must come to live with me.”
Melanie’s heart sank: her Mum had totally misunderstood the purpose of their visit to the Home.
“We’ll have to see, Mum” she said, in much the same way as you would try not to disappoint a small child who had an impossible dream. “Come on, Mum, it’s time to go home now.”
They made their way to Matron’s office and Melanie thanked her for the hospitality and confirmed that this was somewhere she would be happy for Mum to spend her twilight years.
As they slowly walked along the hall towards the front door, Akitie caught up with them. Gracie smiled at her and gave her a hug.
“I’m so glad you will be here when my Mum moves in” smiled Melanie.
Akitie’s round face fell. “I have to leave next week” she said quietly. “I’ve been covering a maternity leave and she’ll be back at the end of the week.”
The two ladies looked at each other in sadness and disbelief.
Gracie, on the other hand, had other ideas!
“Good” she announced firmly, “you will come to live with me and we will make snow mountains every day.”
SNOW MOUNTAINS
Gracie cradled the salt cellar in her hands, looking intently at the play of light on the silvery top. Carefully and deliberately she stretched her hand to the centre of the table and slowly tipped the salt cellar upside down. She watched the tiny white grains as they fell on the green tablecloth, forming a little pyramid among the clutter of tea things.
“Snow”, she said indistinctly. Her stroke hadn’t robbed her of her speech, but her words seemed indistinct, even to her. Her daughter, Melanie, watched the little scene playing out, feeling sad and rather helpless. This shell of the mother she had adored all her life was breaking her heart. How could Mum continue to live the life of independence she’d treasured. But perhaps the nursing home would be the right place. Perhaps.
The Matron was a kindly lady in her 50s with years of experience in care of the elderly. She chose her staff for their compassion as well as their competence. The Home was a delightful country house with only essential nods to its current purpose. The gardens were beautifully maintained with ramps and handrails where tremulous legs could walk safely. The two bedrooms she’d seen were homely, comfortable and spotlessly clean. The residents were clearly enjoying their afternoon tea and chatting about the choir coming to entertain them later.
Yes, it was perfect. But her Mum was a free spirit. How would she fit into this new life?
Melanie tried to imagine how it would be for Mum. She knew that if or when her own time came, she would enjoy the sense of security, of being looked after and the social events laid on. Melanie was a successful business woman, living on the twelfth floor of a modern block of flats in London. She loved the theatre, the art galleries, her frequent business trips to New York and the company of a large circle of friends. Her Mum had accepted Mel’s different way of life, but had no wish to be part of it except for an occasional shopping trip.
The mound of salt continued to grow until the salt cellar was empty. Gracie carefully replaced it on the table and repeated “Snow”.
Akitie, the care assistant, smiled.
“Snowdon?” she hazarded.
“Yes! Snow”. Gracie’s frail finger circling the green cloth, “Park”.
“Snowdon National Park!” Akitie grinned.
Gracie laughed in delight.
“My Mum used to love hiking in Snowdonia, didn’t you Mum?”
Gracie’s face lit up.
“Hiking and camping with Sidney”, she nodded.
Akitie nodded her understanding. She gently patted the top of Snowdon, flattening it slightly and looked at Gracie expectantly.
“Table Mountain”, shouted Gracie in recognition.
Akitie nodded again. “Yes”, she said, “My home country and the very best view in the world when you reach the top of the mountain."
Melanie watched, fascinated. Her Mum and Akitie were clearly in tune with each other, effortlessly spanning the 50 or 60 years difference in their ages. Akitie’s brown eyes shone as she listened to Gracie reminisce about her adventures in the wild places of Britain.
Much later, when tea was over and Melanie and Gracie had had a final stroll round the garden they sat in contented silence on one of the many comfortable seats in a sheltered corner.
Gracie, more lucid than she had been for weeks, said “I like Akitie. She must come to live with me.”
Melanie’s heart sank: her Mum had totally misunderstood the purpose of their visit to the Home.
“We’ll have to see, Mum” she said, in much the same way as you would try not to disappoint a small child who had an impossible dream. “Come on, Mum, it’s time to go home now.”
They made their way to Matron’s office and Melanie thanked her for the hospitality and confirmed that this was somewhere she would be happy for Mum to spend her twilight years.
As they slowly walked along the hall towards the front door, Akitie caught up with them. Gracie smiled at her and gave her a hug.
“I’m so glad you will be here when my Mum moves in” smiled Melanie.
Akitie’s round face fell. “I have to leave next week” she said quietly. “I’ve been covering a maternity leave and she’ll be back at the end of the week.”
The two ladies looked at each other in sadness and disbelief.
Gracie, on the other hand, had other ideas!
“Good” she announced firmly, “you will come to live with me and we will make snow mountains every day.”
there's enough sadness in the real world without having them in fiction. 
It's great to have feedback and critique - so thank you for picking up on what I can see now is a rather weak ending. xxx
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