“What is this? Who are you? How dare you enter my house without permission?”

I shut the door behind me, tucking the key into my purse. Louise is standing in front of me, leaning her weight onto her walker. She squints at me through old, wrinkled eyes.

“It’s just me, Louise. Don’t worry.” I pitch my voice a level higher than usual to compensate for Louise’s aging ears.

“Oh, Amelia.” Louise sighs, swaying back and forth in her walker. “I thought it was someone else.” The old woman takes a tottering step towards me, and I lean forward to grab her as her arms give out. She can’t even manage to hold herself up with the help of a walker anymore, but I don’t dare bring up the subject of a wheelchair. I know there is an immense amount of pride hidden beneath the mountains of her wrinkles.

Letting Louise support herself on both me and the walker, I guide her into the TV room and help her settle into her recliner. Louise smiles toothlessly as I turn on the television. The glow from the TV illuminates the walls, reflecting an indigo light. The theme music for the soap opera squeals out through the old television, echoing in the room. I shiver and wrap my arms around me. This room is the only room in the house that gets electric heating, but the drafts from the rest of the house tend to find their way here. I tried, once, to persuade Louise to move into a smaller, cozier room, but the old woman would have none of it. So she lives out the rest of her life in this big room with its pale blue walls, listening to the soap operas.

Leaving Louise to her afternoon dramas, I make my way towards the kitchen. It is even colder in here, and windy. I realize that a window has been blown open. I reach over to pull it closed. The window slams down, shaking the panes of glass. A blackbird rises from a tree outside. It soars over the house, circling, before disappearing from my line of sight. A chill has settled over the room. I shake my head and prepare Louise’s dinner.

I carry the dinner tray back toward the drafty blue room. Despite the sound of the TV, the room is quieter than usual. I rest my hand on the doorknob. It is ice cold. I drop Louise’s dinner onto the hardwood floor. I don’t mourn the waste of a good dinner as I recognize that Louise won’t need it tonight. Stepping back from the door, I turn towards the telephone to call the hospital.