Life does not just happen; we make it happen. We wake up and do things, every single day, making life happen. I have been doing life for 87 years. They were 87 good years too. Well, mostly good years. But that is neither here nor there, really. The point is, I have been making life for a while now. It feels so long but at the same time, it feels so short. I understand now a little bit people who want immortality. Just a little bit, though.

  Many people I grew up with, friends and relatives have rested. And yet I am here, still making life happen. I wonder sometimes if it really is a blessing to prod on with life when so much has changed and so many have rested. I know my turn will come to rest so I must enjoy this life while I can because once you rest that’s it. There is no coming back. I want to enjoy life because life is really good. It’s not good because of the comfort and beautiful things one might or might not have or hope to have. Life is good because being alive means you can still make life. You can create, discover and enjoy each fresh new day. That is making life and that is so much fun.

  I love life and I want to wonder and run and adventure; create more life but my old bones won’t let me; they have matured not like wine but like grapes ready for harvest. Saggy and droopy. Ready to rest so much that my whole body is a constant ache. I need to rest more, sleep more, do less and surprisingly eat less.

  The eating less is a real bummer! I love food. I let out a sigh. Such is the business of making life. The spirit has big plans but the body is not willing. And so I compromise. Mind you, I compromise. I don’t give up. I still make life in my small limited ways and enjoy it immensely. For I know more than most that I too will rest soon.

  I let out another small sigh. Where did all this brooding and philosophizing coming from?

  I need to pull myself together. Today is my last night with my grandkids.I won’t be able to see them for at least another year. Tomorrow I am going back home to Zimbabwe. Well, it doesn’t feel like home anymore. It used to be home when John was still around but that old silly man decided to rest before me. Now everywhere, in Zimbabwe, I turn is a reminder of him. It will be a year and a half next month since he left. Oh, I miss him more and more each day. We made quite a life together. John was my better half. He made the world safe from me. The world was better for it. He was my gentler and kinder half. He was a my great companion. A great husband to me, great father to our 4 boys and the best friend to all of us. Oh how I miss him.

  I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes. I blinked rapidly to stop them from completely forming and running down my face. Crying is healthy and good and I have cried a lot this past year and a half. Tears are very therapeutic. But today I have another form of therapy in mind. Relaxing and enjoying my grandkids.

  Oh, how I love being a grandmother - all the joys of motherhood again but this time around, without the responsibility. Take today for example. I am about to read a bedtime story to my grandchildren. As a grandmother, I patiently wait for the kids to get fed; washed and readied for bed. Then they come to me to read, laugh and do all sorts of silliness we can get away with. I must confess though, I am not sure why they need me to read when they have audible and the internet. There are far better readers than me.

  “It’s good for the kids to listen and hear your voice. And you were a teacher. Don’t you miss teaching children? This can be like teaching children, right?” My son had kindly pointed out.

  His argument was total rubbish and he knew it too! I was a teacher, yes. But I taught History to High School students a million years ago! What does reading “goodnight, moon” to children under 8 have in common with that.

  “You!” He said and we both laughed.

  In all honesty though, I do enjoy reading to my grandkids. Just thinking about this already lightens my heart. It is my last vacation day with my youngest and his family. We are going to enjoy tonight and tomorrow I am going to back to what used to be home and create a new life without John. After a year of traveling, visiting my children, I feel ready.

  “Bang!” That startled me out of my reverie. Another thing I have developed with age - I do not do well with sudden noises. Its not me, it’s this old body. It just jumps at every sudden noise. Which is in its self a miracle because I don’t hear so well when people are talking. I chuckle.

  “Boys! What’s going on?!” That was my daughter-in-law’s instant shouted response from down the hallway in her bedroom. I think a heavy object had hit something in the grandkids’ room. There was furious whispering but no wailing from behind the the grandkids’ bedroom door. That could be good or bad, one can never tell.

  “I will check it!” Said my son as he rushed past me towards the boys’ bedroom.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He didn’t even see me or even think to ask me. Age does make you invisible to responsibilities. I mean, I like to be seen and acknowledged, everybody does. But I have come to face and accept the fact that I am pretty useless when it comes to physical tasks. Which frustrates me to no end! In this case, I was sitting in the living room, a door away from the boys. I was the closed but physically the furthest.

  I burrow deeper into the soft plush sofa getting warm and comfortable in my new flannel pajamas underneath a very warm winter fleece morning gown.

  “Not a morning gown - a robe, grans. Its a rope. Just a robe.” My grandchildren had explained as they gifted me the gown. I only smiled at them. Oh, to be young. There is no need to disillusion them by telling them the truth. There is nothing new under the sun; things just get renamed. I wrapped my self tighter in my mor-, uh, robe and waited patiently for the grandkids.

  My body twitched just below my belly. Oh, oh! I know that twitch. I needed to visit the little girls room, again! One of the joys of being in this old bones are the numerous bathroom breaks needed. Time to consider diapers? Never! I will crawl to the toilet before that happens.

  I sighed again. There is no better time than now, I guess. Balancing on my walking stick, in one swift motion, I heaved myself and I stood up. “AH HA!”I thought. “I still got it me. Take that you old bones. I am still a spring chicken.” On unsteady feet, propped by my walking stick, I made my way to the bathroom.

  The bathroom door was open. Someone had left the bathroom door open? It frustrates my son and daughter-in-law no end. Well, the open bathroom door problem was bound to happen with kids around. I never had that problem raising my kids, I chuckled. Our bathroom was an outhouse, when I was raising the boys. The door was permanently open because there was no door. One had to walk around the wall to enter the outhouse, sort of like a labyrinth entrance.

  But, hold on. I had been just standing at the door way for a few seconds now. My old bones had seized and I frozen in place. Something was not right. No, something was different. In the background I could now hear squeals of laughter in the grandkids’ bedroom. Which means the bang wasn’t anything serious. But why did I stop and hesitate? Something was different. But where? I stood still and listened… and listened… and nothing.

  “Ah, well.” I mentally shrug and walk into the bathroom not sure what it was, that is making me uneasy and choked it up to getting on in years. These old bones being what they are, I couldn’t reproduce my swift move to turn around and close the door. I had to do my version of a three point turn. I start turning slowly because I still can’t shake the feeling something was wrong. But before I turn around completely, the door slums shut; startling me. Again! Twice in less than an hour! I hate being startled! I used to be cool as ice.

  I frowned at the door, wondering what had just happened. I didn’t push the door that hard. In fact I didn’t touch it at all. I frowned at the it harder, turn back around and my stomach dropped.

  Was I hallucinating? That thought calmed me. One thing I have learnt in my long life is that fear and panic in never good. It confuses and causes you to take rush actions that most of the time are not helpful. So I pushed the confusion and fear in the pit of my stomach. And tried to look at this objectively.

  What’s was going on. I turned back around to look at the door. I blinked. There was no door. “That’s strange…” I murmured myself. I turn around in a circle, just to make sure that this hallucination is a full body immersion.

  It looked like I was not in the bathroom anymore. I was in a forest. Not the lush green kind on in the tropics but multi-colored trees, brush, grass that stretch into the far distance. They were all shades of greens and browns. And randoms colored flowers on the forest floor. It looked like forest back home but prettier. It was a savannah forest with more rain than it should have. I think I could see mountains in the distant horizon. This is a wonderful dream, I started to grin. I was starting to think to myself I must have fallen asleep on the sofa. With that thought though came a nigglingly worry that I hoped I hadn’t pee on myself. I felt energized though. I felt great. I hadn’t felt like this in years. In fact I didn’t remember ever feeling this good. It was worth a little pee for sure! I throw my hands in the air, walking stick in right hand and jumped.

  “What a wonderful dream!” I shout and my voice rung out. Wait! What?

  Many things happened instantly that it only in retrospect that I can put them in a semblance of order. First, I realised that no one ever analysis their dream while dreaming and think “oh wow! What a wonderful dream. Let me enjoy it!”. Or say “oh, this is scary.” No one does that. At least I don’t.

  Second,I realised I could turn around in a circle quickly without any manoeuvring. I had just jumped! My body wasn’t sore. I really was feeling amazing. I looked down at myself and saw my feet! I was still wearing my warm morn- eeh, robe and my feet were visible. After my 50th birthday, the menopause tummy crimped on and never left. I touched my flat stomach with my left hand and something else made me stare and marvel. My hand was as smooth as a baby’s bum. I know, how smooth baby bums are. I have cleaned my baby bums. How was this possible?

  Then I raised my hand high above my head just enjoying how nibble and flexible I was and that when I saw it. The pretty forest now looked unearthly. It was covered in a shimmering glow and the temperature was dropping fast. There was a thick mist raising from the horizon. I couldn’t see the mountains range anymore. Instead of a surreal beautiful the whole scene gave off a menacing feeling. I couldn’t hear any sound. No bird tweeted or leaves rustled. It was eerily quite like the calm before a storm.

  What was that?

  Then in my head I heard,

  “The-smoke-that-thunders identified.

  Level: unknown.

  Threat level high! The smoke that thunders devours everything in its path.

  Ding!

  General skill identify unlocked

  level 1.

  5XP awarded

  Congratulations! ”