Joyce in Summer

by Jenny Sanders

autumn, and broke her hip? She’s still doing her physiotherapy exercises now; says it’s really stiff when she wakes up in the mornings. I may not have broken anything, but I was in a heap of pain, I can tell you.

I’ll mend eventually; but that’s the thing, isn’t it? When you get to my age, you just don’t bounce like you used to. Kids can fall out of a tree, and still be leaping around in the park the next day in one of those plaster casts. I’ve got a bandage on my ankle and dab at the cuts and bruises night and morning with calamine lotion; but I don’t think I’ll be leaping anywhere for a while.

Well now, you’ve caught me on the hop here today. Look at me; all at sixes and sevens. The kettle’s just boiled, and frankly, I was looking for an excuse to sit down with this cuppa, so that’s perfect.

What a lot can happen in a couple of months! Last time I chatted to you, we were looking forward to the coronation weren’t we? I can tell you that Viv did come round, and there was a street party; all as we’d planned. I even made the cake I promised. What I didn’t plan was tripping over some trailing bunting and falling flat on my face. It shook me up, I can tell you. Fortunately, with so many people around, I had a lot of help. Nothing broken, I’m glad to say, but it made us all have a jolly good think. If I’d have been on my own in the house, it might have been a different story.

As it is, I’ve got bruises all up my left arm where I took the brunt of the fall, a slice up my leg where I met a pile of cake tins, and the remains of a black eye, fading to a delicate shade of rotten banana. I know, I know; I should have been more careful. Remember when my friend Viv fell outside the shop last

Anyway, all this to say, that of course, the kids freaked out. ‘What if you’d been home alone, Mum?’ Corinne shrieked down the phone. ‘Good job I wasn’t,’ I replied; but they weren’t having it. I’d probably have been the same if it were my mum.

Matthew turned up on my doorstep having changed his shifts around, and bumped some poor persons operation – he’s a surgeon you’ll remember. (His Dad was so proud; we never thought we’d have one of those in our family. He was the first to get a university education until Corinne went a couple of years later to study English literature. Chalk and cheese those two.) Anyway, he wasn’t happy at all and started talking about care homes. I gave him pretty short shrift, as you can imagine.

Corinne was on a call with him for ages; apparently planning to move me down there to live with them. You’d think I wasn’t even in the room hearing every word! They were talking about remodelling the house, knocking down a couple of walls and adding a granny flat. I had to put my foot down sharpish. Between them, they’d have had me moved around like a parcel somewhere or other. ‘I’ve no plans to go anywhere,’ I told them. ‘Your Dad and I lived here a good many years, and it’s full of memories I don’t intend to throw away just yet.’

It’s not as though I’m ill; that might be a different story. I just fell over –‘had a fall’, they say once you get past a certain age. Like having the measles, or having whooping cough, or something. Ridiculous.

So, long story short, once they’d both calmed down and taken some deep breaths we compromised a bit. It’s true that I’m not as on top of my cleaning as I used to be. I often nod off in this chair after lunch these days, and pushing my shopping trolley isn’t as easy as it was. I’m reluctant to tell you those things, but it is what it is. There’s no point pretending. On the other hand, I’m not decrepit yet. I’m grateful to still have my marbles – that reminds me, I need to pick up a new word search puzzle book at the newsagents next time I go that way.

Still, I only need to look out of the window to see that the seasons are changing again. The spring blossom has given way to full leaf on the trees, and the grass is growing like mad. It stands to reason that seasons of life change too. I can feel myself on the verge of a new chapter. It’s a bit unnerving, to be honest.

Anyway, it turns out there’s a lovely team of ladies up here who run a business called, Changing Seasons; how appropriate is that? It’s for people whose families aren’t local so can’t visit as often as they’d like. They come and spend some time, doing whatever you need: sorting doctor’s appointments, helping fill in those blessed forms everyone wants from you these days; generally keeping an eye on you, I think, so the family can rest assured you’re still in the land of the living.

Corinne came up last Monday, being as it was a public holiday, after the coronation. That was quite a spectacle, wasn’t it? Viv and I shared sherry, and a lunch on our laps, while we watched it on the telly. I do love a bit of pageantry, and no one does it like us Brits; well, we’ve got a lot of history, haven’t we?

Anyway, where was I?

Yes, Corinne came, and we had an appointment for a lady to come (so kind of her to give up her public holiday) and do an assessment. Sounded a bit ominous to me, but it was all very friendly. Lovely girl. Emma, her name is. We just chatted really. She asked about my health, what I do with my week, my friends; that sort of thing.

So, as it stands, Emma is going to come twice a week. She can take me to the shops, which saves all that waiting for a bus in the rain lark. She’s happy to help with those practical things, plus she told me about a couple of lunch clubs in town which I didn’t know about. Viv goes to one run by her church, but it’s on a Wednesday, which is market day, and I don’t like to miss that. Emma might take me first thing, and then I could perhaps go there afterwards without being too tired. I’d like that.

I told you, I went to Viv’s church for their harvest supper back in the autumn. There’s some nice folk there. It might be good for me to spend some time getting to know some other locals on her side of town.

Matthew has sorted for a cleaner to come once a fortnight, which will take the pressure off a bit. Hope she knows what she’s doing –or maybe it will be a ‘he’; equality and all that. Anyway, whoever it is, I’ll be checking they’ve dusted the skirting boards, and on top of the doors; that’s always how you know whether they’re conscientious. If not, they’ll be getting their marching orders, but I’ll live in hope until then.

The kids are picking up the expense between them, which is really kind.

It does seem rather odd, all this change. It reminds me of the passage our headmistress used to read at the end of every school term from the big leather school Bible. I still remember it now:

‘There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die…’

Well, I’m not ready to die yet!

It doesn’t frighten me. No; I have a simple faith; have done since Sunday school days. I know it’s real, and I know where I’m going, so there’s no problem there. I hope it’s quick and not too painful, but even that I have to leave with the Almighty. In my experience, He knows what He’s doing; it’s people who ignore Him, then mess things up and try to blame Him that baffle me. It makes no sense.

Anyway, that passage goes on a bit, but the line I always remember is that there’s:

‘a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance…’

I like that. I think I’ve got a few more years of laughing and dancing in me before I’m done; at least, I hope so. Meanwhile, I’m content to drink my cuppa, do my puzzles, enjoy my friends, and then let’s see what this new season holds. Perhaps I’ll see you again in the next chapter.

Jenny Sanders is a writer, speaker, encourager and mentor. She loves writing, reading and walking in nature whenever she can. For the past several years she’s lived between the beautiful cities of Bath, UK and Cape Town, S Africa. Her exciting and humorous new children’s book The Magnificent Moustache and Other Stories is now available published by The Conrad Press.