Writing for Fun
April 2019
Chain Of Events - Gerry Miller
The French doors looked over a truly beautiful garden, it looked very carefully maintained and it was a riot of colour; June and July had always been her favourite months, though as she gazed out she remembered saying this about every month. The garden was, indeed as her life was, a chain of events and as the earth rotated so indeed did everything in it. As the doors swung open the frail slightly unsteady grey hair lady stepped out onto the decking her floral stick could be heard tapping on the decking.
As the floral vista stretched before her, the woman breathed deeply as though she needed to absorb the whole garden into her body. If you could see her, smiles were flitting across her face, her lips moved as she muttered to herself, ‘My very own estate.’ Memories of her many visitors, family and friends all part of her own individual chain of life flitted through her mind. This small garden had like her endured so much and both had struggled to fulfil their potential.
The trees could be seen and heard moving and rustling almost in time with the babbling of the tiny brook that ran alongside one of the side fences. As the sun shone down on the back of her head and back the rheumatism and arthritis seemed to relax and set free her stooped body. She straightened up and smiled a sense of tranquillity had entered her soul. This beautiful world and her small microcosm of it was doing all it could to combat global warming and the myriad of environment issues.
She had reached her swinging seats and lowered herself gently; this was one of her most favourite of seating places. Her newspaper reading seat, the coffee place and of course her meaningful talking place. She knew that many a minister or leader had been seduced by the rustling bamboos, the smells from her very careful sensory planting and the gentle sound of the rushing water. The hours of toil and trouble to construct this and people had suggested that she had wasted her psychology degrees. Little did they realise.
She had not thought so many years ago that starting the first school strike and taking part in the climate change protests could have set such a chain of events into action? Globally now millions of individuals had changed their lifestyles, petrol cars had been given up and transport was now electric. Solar panels and wind farms sourced all power, fracking and mining were obsolete. Air transport was the last to be converted storage batteries had at last been miniaturised with no loss to the amount of power stored within them.
Her work was now over and the younger generations well able to carry on with steering the planet towards full recovery. Greta glancing up, seeing the Grim Reaper walking towards her; ready to depart she sighed, she obviously would have things to do in the after world, the first of it was his black hood cowl and scythe really needed changing.