In the Autumn of Life

It was November again. 

Mrs. Carter looked out of the windowpane. The leaves were set on fire! Heaps of yellow-gold-red leaves were scattered all around, which shone like precious gemstones in the mellow rays of the sun. 

Autumn was once the time for family gatherings, warm drinks, and warmer hugs. But over the past few years, things have changed as Mrs. Carter moved from her home to a special care unit nearby. Alzheimer's disease badly hit her, and her family found it difficult to take care of her as she required care and attention throughout the day.

As a daily routine, Mrs. Carter would go for short walks in the mornings with her caregiver. That day, as the weather was chill, she pulled on her yellowish-brown coat, trimmed with dark velvet bands, and applied some moisturizer on her wrinkled plump cheeks.

The scarlet leaves on the ground formed a red carpet, greeting her as she stepped out. The best thing about nature is that it is impartial; it always welcomes you and embraces you wholeheartedly for who you are. It does not matter if you cannot remember your past, your origin, or for that matter, even your name.

But one of the advantages of Alzheimer's patients is that they are bound to live in the moment, and Mrs. Carter has lately learned that. In a way, the disease had set her free from the withering of age and its obligations. She did not remember much about her past; hence she could not connect it to her future. Life was simple yet valuable as every moment was a treasure.

The air was crisp; the sky was clear and painted pink with the hues of the morning sun. The streets were empty. There were not many houses in the lane, only a few old ones with brown pointed brick roofs and windows shut, which allowed the wind to whisk by without any obstructions. It was around 7 in the morning, but everything around was calm and placid; only the rustling noise of the wind could be heard, scattering the pile of leaves.

Mrs. Carter preferred resting on a bench for a while, enjoying the chirping of the birds. She would often catch sight of squirrels gathering acorns for the winter and adore the tranquillity of nature. Her young attendant Emma would always accompany her on those early morning walks. Emma would sit patiently beside her; there would be no great conversations, jokes, or promises made between them and hence no memories to make. But to Mrs. Carter, Emma's warm delighted smile, delicate satin dresses in pastel shades, and her black shiny expressive carried memories of some forgotten spring.

That day, Emma informed them that they would return early as Mrs. Carters' family members, including her granddaughter, were supposed to visit them. Mrs. Carter was surprised, happy, and intrigued at the same time.

She could hardly remember her granddaughter; how old she would be. She could not remember who else was there in her family, even how many children she had. So she was hesitant, thinking if her granddaughter would be delighted to see her and if would she be as gentle as Emma.

They started walking back, and as they reached the center gate and opened it, a young lady rushed towards her with a smile of joy that lit up her eager face. Behind her was a family of four. Mrs. Carter felt a jolt in her nerves as if she would recall all information that went missing. It was almost at the tip of her brain, but as someone said that Alzheimer's is a dreadful disease that rips the mind, she stayed blank, not recognizing her family; her smile was dry, but her eyes twinkled in mirth. For a minute, it seemed she tricked her granddaughter or was irked with her family for leaving her in the care center. But sadly, by then the information about her granddaughter’s visit had slipped off her mind.