Árdís - 01.01.1953, Page 48

46
ÁRDÍ S
Retired Mother
By VALDINE PAULA INGALDSON
Delivered. at the Twenty-Ninth Annual Convention
oj the Lutheran Women’s League,
Geysir, Man., June 12th, 1953.
Even though it was raining, Grace Leland unlocked the door
reluctantly. She was loathe to enter her silent house. As she
opened the door she was remembering other times, when she had
been welcomed by her children, or their pets, or her husband, Paul.
Now all of them were lost to her; Paul, through death three
years ago, Ben, her youngest son in Korea, and her other sons, Bill
and John, and daughter Elaine, through marriages. She was glad
her children were happily married, but they lived in cities across
the Dominion, so she seldom saw them. Now she did not know
what to do with her empty days.
She placed her damp coat on a hanger and hung it up in the
alcove off the hall, then stepped into the large living room.
The subdued quiet and the odor of flowers reminded her of a
funeral home, for the potted Easter lily and hyacinths, and spray
of roses were still in bloom though Easter had come and gone.
Of course she was happy to receive her children’s offering of
remembered love, but flowers soon fade and wither, curl up and die.
She tossed her new hat on the divan and pushed both hands
through her graying blond hair, hoping to ease the nagging head-
ache. “Age is creeping up on me,” she thought. “I am lonely and
have nothing interesting to do. No one needs me. It doesn’t matter
whether I live or die.”
Remembering her many ailments: headaches, sleepless nights,
and sore back, she decided to consult a doctor. With trembling
fingers she leafed through the telephone directory, then remembered
that her doctor, Dr. Bacon, like so many of her friends, had retired,
and moved away, and that Dr. Michael Midfjord had taken his
place at the clinic. She made an appointment with him for the
next afternoon.
Grace Leland had taken numerous tests at the clinic, and sat
rigid on the hard chair, wiping her damp palms on the crumpled