The Thin Grey Line

The house was quiet, as it always was in the afternoon. She sipped her tea, having resisted the temptation to partake of something stronger. The radio murmured companionably next to her. The afternoon play. She wasn’t paying attention to the story. In the distance children played and someone was mowing their lawn. She could hear birdsong.

She relished the peaceful house, it was the only time during the day when she was left alone. Soon mother would wake from her afternoon nap, querulous and demanding attention. The same routine, every day. Up early to see to her mother’s needs. The carer arrived around 9am, although it was sometimes later. They stayed about an hour, helping to move mother from the bedroom to the lounge, where she would sit in front of the television with the volume turned down and the subtitles on, watching the same endless stream of banality.

She took another sip and sighed. Outside, rain started to softly fall. She’d taken on the burden of caring for her mother a long time ago. A failed marriage, an unsatisfactory career and a familial obligation made the decision inevitable. But now, after so many years, she was aware of the lines on her face and her grey hair. Time, and life, was passing her by, but she was trapped. Outside her own life, friends and family had children, relationships and careers. She had mother.

She knew it was her duty, but the long days stretched ahead of her without end. She was aware there were lots of people in the same situation. Unable or unwilling to place loved ones in anonymous and sterile care homes. Instead, they were dedicated to endlessly caring, waiting for the day when they could live again. Hoping there would be time enough to live again. She didn’t want to lose her mother, but she felt ground down by the burden. She knew the truth; this was the modern world. The quiet horror of thousands, waiting for their lives to resume. But she also knew life was all about the small things, a day trip, a meal and the memories these things created. It was about people and kindness and that was enough. Love was enough. For her, this knowledge carried her through each day.

She heard noises from the lounge. Mother was waking. She finished her tea and stood up. Once more into the breach.