Peaches

              Rain pattered against the wide window that made up the front of the kitchen, casting light and warmth over the sink and table on any other day. Now it stood as a dark mirror in a poorly lit kitchen that once catered an entire family, sons and husbands, wives and daughters, a slew of children that would run about before a holiday dinner with their toys or chased that old gray dog around that once resided here. Now it sat empty, but for a single soul, wrapped in an ebony dress, standing on swollen ankles shoved into a pair of heels that had not been worn in decades.

              The smell of cinnamon from a small dish lingered in the heavy air, small balls the size of the lollypops their children had grabbed at from the bank dish when they were young. A quiet sigh drew in the layer of pinesol and stale cigarette smoke that hung in the air as a pair of frail white hands grasped at an object that sat upon the counter in front of the dark clad women. The breath was released with a slow shudder as she fumbled with the metallic object, dropping it onto the floor in the process.

              She patted her hands off on her old dress before picking it up, straightening for a moment before gazing down upon the task she had started. Old joints cracked and crunched as she flexed her old limbs and began working the tool around the object in front of her. Memories of a full, warm home rushed through her mind as she worked, causing a dry sting in the corner of the dried out eyes that had sunk deep into the sockets that held them so prominent and strong for all these years.

              A young boy had scooted a yellow truck of some sort around this kitchen once, running circles around her while she danced back and forth between the counter she worked upon now and the cold stove that sat in the corner. An armful of energy and precious love, soft blonde hair that whipped back and forth as she sat in the now aged reclined in the living room, tickling him and brushing hair back to see the beauty she had made.

              The tool in her hands popped and crunched nearly as much as her body had the morning she had scrambled out of bed a week ago. The little blonde boy had become a man now, as strong as hid father had been, though he would never admit it, and this made her chuckle for a moment as she took a break from the task. Another gasp sounded, louder this time, as the weight began to hit her like heavy waves against the stones that protected a harbor.

              The women in black froze for a moment before turning to address the loud thud that had sounded behind her, gazing at the table that sat in the center of the room. She had never bonded well with the kitten when he had brought it home. He was always such a gentle soul when it came to animals, no matter how mean or distraught they were.

              She turned back to work the can opener into the peaches she was so desperately now trying to fill her empty stomach with. Once when they were young, shortly after the kitten came home with him from work they had picked them, and it was all she craved now. Fingers began to grow sore as the elderly women worked the tool around the top of the can, nearly to the end before she had to shake the pain out of her hands and wrists.

              A second thud, louder now, assaulted her as the dark furry animal made its way onto the counter next to her, sniffing at the wavy rim that had popped up to release the sweet smell into the empty home. She jumped in a startle before looking down to the cat that stood next to her, running its long sandpaper tongue over the front of its nose before shoving out a short sigh and laying down upon the counter.

“Would you like some?” she questioned enthusiastically as the lid popped off the can.

              She laid her old body out on the recliner while the rain continued falling into the earth, the cat finding a place next to her small body.