How ironic that when they had finally retired and moved to their dream cabin by the lake, Martha only had two years to enjoy it. Every afternoon, when the weather allowed, she walked to the end of the dock with her glass of wine. George would watch from the kitchen window, making sure that nothing interfered with Martha’s alone time.
The last six months had been tough. Initially the doctors had diagnosed the cancer incorrectly and Martha didn’t get the care she needed. By the time a specialist had found the real problem, it was too late to save his wife. It was hard for him to comprehend that after fifty years of marriage, he was alone.
His daughter, Elise, had arranged for the sale of the cabin. She insisted that he come to live with her and her family. She said he needed “looking after.” Tomorrow the movers will arrive, and he will have to say goodbye to the lake, the loons and his independent life.
George picks up his drink and walks out onto the dock. The pink chair has a layer of dust on it now, but he sits on it anyway. He looks back at the cabin and begins to cry.