I watched my grandma prop up her weak elbows, sit against the bed’s headboard and turn her head to the side. Following her gaze to the tiny window, I saw flutters of snow falling. The air outside looked chilly, as if one would freeze when they stepped out. No sight of the sun.
In the room, there were no signs of the chill. On the contrary, the warmth of the heated room enveloped me like a warm hug.
Somewhere in the room, a watch ticked, its usually quiet sound loudly ticking away.
Each tick felt like a heartbeat. Tick, thump, tick, thump, tick, thump. Indistinguishable.
So I started praying. Praying that the watch had enough battery to last a few more years.
Just a few more, I pleaded as my gaze turned back to my grandma.
Under the bright light, she looked pale. And fragile. Like the slightest wind could knock her over. Tears filled my eyes at the realization.
It was not long ago when we were running together. Grandma was the most active person I knew. And her laughter used to fill the entire room with warmth.
Now, she was confined to the bed. I couldn’t imagine the sorrow she felt. Of course, she never showed it, but what else could she feel?
Then I heard a chuckle.
And there she was. My grandma. Smiling as bright as the sun.
“Look at all that snow. What a beautiful day!”
