Again, this year.

The pneumatic mattress gives an occasional random pop. The clock ticks steadily. 101 years and 4 months precisely. Her forehead grows cold.

Bedtime Stories

Uschi reading a story to her mum. The story is "Mariandl's Tochter" written by Chris herself in the 1970s which I scanned as text a few years ago. She can still remember some of the words and quotes them before Uschi can finish reading them.

Tick...

tick, tick goes the intravenous pump. 62 ml/hr of saline. Ticking away minutes and hours from 101 years.

First Night in The Wards

Once Chris knew that Uschi was staying for the night she was peacefully asleep within a few minutes. 101 years of life results in a very tired body.

First Pie I Have Made

Uschi asked what it was called. I said,"Sidney", "Mister Sidney Pie"!
A meat pie with a Morrocan hint given by harissa. 

Boomerang Trailer...

parked in front of the house tonight. After refurbishing the wheels, tyres, hubs and checking brakes and lights. It's ready to go to Gawler for the weekend.

Up Side Down Miss Jane

Flying SOL in the training area. One last go at aerobatics before it goes away.

"New" chairs for the house

Pull all the old staples out, chuck out the old fabric, cut some new blue cloth, recover and presto; chairs that match the rest of the furnishings. Some re-upholstered chairs for the dining room

Departure

Don't take him away.
I know we asked you to, I know its what you have to do. Serious lady and thin man in black.
Sister fusses with the buttons on the bright blue pyjama top. A few more seconds, a few more seconds.

Small conversation. They have to slide him across the bed. They have a dark blue sheet they want to use. I can't be just a witness any longer, I have to do something. I help with the sheet. Or are these just my few more seconds. Bound in dark blue.

Support the head when lifting.
On the stretcher. The zip is closing. Sister kisses. Seeking contact.
"Do you need to touch?"
"No. I think I've said my goodbyes earlier."
The zip is nearly closed.
"Wait."
Fleeting hand on cheek. One more second.

I take the head end of the the stretcher and thin man takes the other end. We wheel it out into the bright mid day sunshine, to the polished and neat silver van.

And so it goes.

Max

I hung up Max's lead and choker this morning on the hook by the back door where it had hung unused since the Christmas before last.
When I first found it a month or so ago it was dirty and the metal was rusty. The lead is now clean again and the rust has disappeared from the chain, just through use.
Can't help thinking that it may not get used again.

The sound of concrete cutting

The sound of concrete cutting came from across the road, light shone through the lace curtains. I sat in the quiet bedroom, no living soul beside me.
The faint shadow patterns moved across the cream coloured quilt and sometimes gave the impression of a chest rising and falling in gentle sleep. But it was not so, all was still and peaceful.
There were no tears.
Not immediately.