Doris and Mavis walked with a geriatric-ly paced doddle to their favourite cafe.
Doris’s legs weren’t as fast as they used to be. Especially since her hip replacement. Doris wasn’t much better. Her recent knee operation had taken longer than expected to heal.
But they never complained, at least not to each other, and were silently grateful for the incline in the road as they toddled along, enjoying the fresh spring air.
They had known each other ever since they could walk and since their parents lived next door to each other; it wasn’t long before their families enjoyed Christmas and all the holidays together.
They went through school together. Shared the laughs, and tears of their teenage years. They even found jobs at the local laundry factory working on the sheet roller. Their weekends spent enjoying a beer or two at the local pub.
It wasn’t long before they both found husbands. Or, to be more precise, their husbands found them. They married, had children, grandchildren. Lived through the highs and lows of the Great War and the Depression. Then, as with everything in life, friends began to pass away, and they found themselves at more funerals than weddings. The sand pouring from their hour glass's as their bodies yielded to the sands of time, relying more and more on each other at the passing of their husbands until they found themselves on their own.
They moved to a retirement village, where they could share a room. They would wile away the days, sitting in their own comfortable chairs, staring out the window of their framed view. Their only highlight was the weekly trek to the local cafe. But lately, the trek was taking longer and, to Doris’s trepidation, Mavis struggled to catch her breath with each passing week.
Doris would query Mavis. But Mavis would bolster herself and say, “A change is as good as a break and if you can’t keep up, then stay home.”
Doris would always reply. “Of course. Sorry for being silly.”
But this week was different. Doris didn't reply. She just hung her head.
They arrived and sat at their usual table and waited expectantly for the waitress to come and place their order.
They had been going there for so long; the staff knew their order by heart. But it was nice to get the attention, and of course to see Doris's granddaughter, who always waited on their table.
They placed their usual order. A cup of earl gray tea for Doris. Lemon, and a spot of milk. And for Mavis, a pearl tea with a little honey. The honey was a recent addition. Mavis had been getting a little extravagant in her later years.
They always shared a bran muffin. Doris always cut it in half, while Mavis would butter it. But of late, Doris cut and buttered the muffin for the both of them. As Mavis’s shaking had become a “bore,” as Mavis put it. “And after all. She would add. Since Doris was the younger of the pair; by three months. It was Doris's obligation to look after the senior member of the duo.”
Sadly, this would be their last outing. Mavis was being moved to the Critical care facility. So they ate their muffin in silence. Doris fed Mavis a mouthful at a time, trying her best not to let Doris see the sadness in her eyes.
Doris was so caught up in her own thoughts she was unaware of the crowd that gathered around them until a bright light enveloped the table.
They both turned to see Doris's granddaughter holding Doris's favourite cake, her face shining brighter than the candle laden cake.
Around them, staff, friends, and family filled the cafe, their smiles and tear-filled eyes speaking more than any word could express, a testimony to the lives they had both touched throughout their friendship.
A friendship that would live on in the hearts and minds of those they had touched.
Photo created by AI. Inspired by AJN Gallagher
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