There is an old woman living down the road from me, I see her most mornings when I pass her house on my way to work. She is either cleaning windows or doors or picking up trash out of the yard. I wonder if she is doing these chores because she is lonely, or because it gives her an opportunity to chat with the neighbors.
My name is Sarah I live in a small charming town called Judges It is an old world city filled with a variety of homes. Some of the homes here have arched doorways and windows; and there are those that are breathtaking, like the ones with the stained glass windows that allow the morning sunshine to ease one into another beautiful day. The cobblestone streets and brick laid sidewalks are signs of days gone by. The flower garden is a wonderful place to relax. It has a variety of floras; some flowers are daylilies, irises and my favorite, peonies. My town is thirty-five miles east of Warwick. The people here are very friendly and considerate.
I work as a cashier at a pharmacy, about eight blocks from where I live. I walk to work every morning. Mrs. Jackson, the old woman who lives down the street from me, is very cheerful, she says hello and makes a remark about the weather. She has shoulder length white hair, friendly brown eyes with a nice smile. Her skin is rose colored, she wears an over the knee striped dress with a full-length apron over it. Her shoes are boot like that comes to the ankle. When she smiles, her eyes dazzle. I think I will invite her for tea soon. One morning I pass her house and she was not there, but there is a note on the door, and it is address to me.
I retrieved the note that was address to me. It said, “Sarah, I had to leave quickly last night because my sister that lives in Maine is very ill. Her condition is terminal. I need your help, would you water my plants and take my mail in the house? The key is under the gold colored mat on the front porch. Thank you very much, Sarah, Mrs. Jackson.” Wow, that poor woman, “I wonder why she choose me to watch out for everything, she does not really know me. Only thing she knows about me is my face and name,” Sarah thought to herself.
After I read her note, I stood on her porch for at least ten minutes before I reached for the key under the rug. Of course, I was surprise that she would ask me to do this for her, especially when there are neighbors all around and, I live eight blocks away. “No need to over think anything, she needs my help and I don’t mind doing that for her.” Sarah said to herself. She is going through a crisis, and she needs my help. I hope she is all right, and has arrived safely to Maine. I feel awful that she had to run out of town so suddenly.
A few days has pass since Mrs. Jackson left town. My prayers are with her. She has a considerable amount of mail to look at when she returns. I water her plants every few days now. Her home looks so comfortable. It’s like a broken in look that shows the wear and tear of use. She has textured walls, hand-trawled windows and doors, and the marble is gorgeous. Her color palette is rich and majestic, but soft for a well-worn effect. The colors in her home are burgundy, navy, forest green and cream.
Mrs. Jackson has been in Maine for the past two weeks, I hope everything is all right. I was on my way to work one morning and when I pass Mrs. Jackson house, there she was standing in the doorway. She step out to greet me.
“How are you,” Sarah Mrs. Jackson asked.
“Good,” replied Sarah.
“Listen, thank you so much for looking after things while I was away.” stated Mrs. Jackson.
“It was my pleasure,” Sarah replied.
“Sarah, my sister is hanging on, they expect she has a couple more months to live. Mrs. Jackson said.
“Well I am sorry to hear that Mrs. Jackson,” Sarah said looking down toward the ground.
“I will be going back in a week, and I wonder if you can continue to look after things for me until I return?”
“Well of course, Mrs. Jackson, I could look after things for as long as you need me to.” Sarah replied.
“Thank you, Sarah.
I went about my daily grind at the pharmacy, and several days went by and I had not seen Mrs. Jackson. Then, one evening on my way back home, there was another note on the door addressed to me. It said; Sarah,” I have decided I want be coming back to Judges. My family is here in Maine, and I like to be here with them. I enjoyed living there in Judges, but now I think it is time that I moved on. I want be so lonely in that big house any more. About the house, Sarah it is yours, please accept it. You will find documents with my signatures in my nightstand drawer. Thank you very much for your help and for being so kind to me.”
Sarah was taken aback, she did not know what to do, and that sweet woman gave me her house. What a generous gift. I wish she could have stayed around to say good-bye. I know she had to get back to her family. At least now she want be lonely any more. I hope that I will get a chance to visit her and thank her properly.
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