A World Outside
Martha and James Digby had discussed retirement in the past. It wasn’t until Martha took charge and asked Miss Emelina about reducing her hours that James started think of it seriously. Neither of them felt like they were too old to keep on working. Neither of them had taken much time for themselves. They had not seen a world outside the Estate other than trips up Island or the one time they went to visit James’ brother Thom on the mainland. It was that trip that had Martha thinking of more than the idyllic setting they shared. As young people, the pair started working together at the same time. For Martha it was most of her life, James had lived on the Estate all of his life. Of course there was a brief sojourn in University as a young man. It was so long ago that it barely counted as anything but a memory. They had always had a comfortable life, but as she grew older, Martha became restless. She never wanted to be far from her daughter and her grandchildren but something niggled at her. She would find herself staring out the big living room window at the lane that led from their cottage. Always knowing where it led, to another road and into the city, along the ocean and away. Putting down her dust cloth, she went to the garage and picked up her gardening tools. Outside she started weeding and planting along the sides of the little lane extending from their driveway. She was careful not to disturb the crocus’ blooming in the grasses and beneath wild brush. To start with, that seemed enough. As long as her eyes watched her hands dig and plant and pat the soil around the low growing ground cover, she felt at peace. Straightening her stiff joints, she stood to scatter wild flower seed in the shallow ditches.
One day, when James was away in Hartley meeting with his personal accountant, Martha had taken her beautification project a little farther down the lane. Finished the section she had been working on, she had taken off her flowered garden gloves and set them with her tools. Rather than picking them up to return to their quaint cottage, she just started to walk down the lane and down the road. No plan in mind, she just wanted to walk. Stopping to pull a weed or to watch a robin pulling a worm from the soft shoulder, she loved the feeling of the lowering sun, the wind ruffling her hair. She hummed a long forgotten childhood tune. Martha, a pragmatic woman, was not prone to wandering on her own. Even as a child, she had wanted nothing more than her family around her. Growing up the oldest of three children with two brothers, she had become a second mother to them. Her own mother worked hard. A single mother, she organized her home, entrusting Martha to keep order when she was at one of her two, sometimes three, jobs. Her mother had no pay benefits or the reliability of one steady job. Martha had vowed to make her life different. “Hmmm…..is that why I’ve never thought of traveling? Because I’m too safe here?” She turned, surprised she had walked so far from the cottage, her gardening tools a mere speck at the side of the lane. The wind had picked up, blowing her hair in complete disarray. Clouds were rolling in from the ocean, muddying what had been a clear, warm day. Pulling her sweater close, she started back. In the distance the sound of a car caught her ear. “Oh, my! I hope whoever that is doesn’t think I’m some vagrant wanting a lift!” Stepping off the road, she realized it was their car. Relieved she stood on tiptoe and waved.
James had seen someone on the road, but couldn’t make out who it was or if he knew the person. There was seldom anyone on this road to the cottage. He slowed for a moment. As he approached he realized it was his wife! “What on earth is she doing out here?’ Picking up speed, he saw her wave. “I should just drive on by as if I hadn’t seen her. I think I will.” Eyes straight ahead, he kept right on driving, but shortly pulled to the side of the road. James was not prone to levity. Control was part of him after his years of butler-ing. Breathing heavily, Martha opened the passenger door and climbed in, setting her gardening things on the floor. “James Digby! Why didn’t you stop? I know you saw me.” Martha was very glad to see her husband. The clouds were threatening a downpour and she didn’t even have an umbrella. A twinkle in his eye, he said. “ I thought you were some vagrant out wandering.” Martha frowned and grinned. “You did not. You knew perfectly well it was me!”
~~~~~
Martha had left a chicken stew simmering in the crockpot. While she was washing up, James made dumplings and set the table. While they waited for the dumplings to cook, they shared a pot of tea and began telling each other about their day. Their curiosities and hopes for their ‘golden years’. Still hesitant to really see themselves in retirement, they reminisced about ideas almost forgotten. Rain had been short lived. Hand in hand, they took a quiet walk in the cool, humid evening air.
~~~~~
“….everything has a past. Everything - a person, an object, a word, everything. If you don’t know the past, you can’t understand
the present and plan properly for the future.”
~ Chaim Potok, Davita’s Harp
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