Sitting by the window

My grandmother sits by the window. She tells me she wants to sit in the sun.

Between lunch and her afternoon nap. She tells me the doctor recommends she sit in the sun, but I think she just wants to see the world go by. Just like her world has.

Sometimes I sit with her, before resuming work.

She tells me the most interesting piece of news. Forgotten by the pressers the next day, but remembered by her.

She maintains a book where the clippings are stuck. She takes pride in this hobby-book of hers. Insists on doing it without any help.

She asks me if I read the paper. If it is the same as this one. I respond I do, the only difference is the language.

Children, working parents, helpers and delivery boys go by. She notices. Footfall persists from dawn to midnight, she tells me.

Even as she lays in bed can she hear them. She wants to. I think it makes her feel part of the movement. Like she has somewhere to go. Days of past.

From 7 to 9 children of all ages go by, parents holding the little one’s bags. She remembers her school bag and how she carried it to school.

She notices the cooks and cleaners gossiping about the houses they tend to. Hidden behind a curtain, she wants to be invisible, but listens intently. The gossip excites her.

Seeing the women head to work, she asks me if people of the opposite gender are in my workplace. Asks if I’ve made friends.

My grandmother sits by the window. She tells me she wants to sit in the sun.