The temperature in
the bedroom slowly climbed and Ludmila could feel herself becoming overheated,
slightly sweaty, and slightly nauseous. She rolled to her side to see that her
alarm clock had failed to sound, leaving her rising an hour later than normal.
At seventy-nine years of age, she had maintained a remarkable level of health
from many years of consistent exercise, healthy eating, and the occasional
glass of wine. She slowly sat up on the edge of the bed, giving herself a few
moments to cool down having escaped from the down comforter that had previously
held her captive.
She lived alone in
a two-bedroom house in a neighborhood that she had known for fifty years. Her
husband Harold passed away nearly a decade prior after fathering their twins
who had since grown up, started their own families, and lived less than a mile
away. She slid her feet into her slippers and moved through the hallway to the
kitchen to see that the temperature outside now exceeded ninety degrees. For
being ten o’clock in the morning, she feared where the temperature may peak by
midafternoon.
Still in her
nightgown, she peeked out the living room window to see a neighborhood that had
radically changed since the time they purchased their home so many years prior.
She raised her right hand to adjust the volume on her hearing aid, until she
realized that she had not inserted them when she rose from bed a few moments
before. Returning to her bedroom, she put in her hearing aids and turned them
to a comfortable level, to hear the sound of music coming from somewhere
outside.
She could feel her
frustration rising from the constant stream of noise from her immediate
neighbor, a young woman named Katarina, who seemed to have no regard for her
neighbors, or any respect for herself. Ludmila took a shower in water that was
cooler than comfortable, thankful for a reprieve from the heat. She dried
herself, combed her hair, and put on her Lulu lemon yoga pants and an oversize
t-shirt.
She looked out the
second bedroom window to catch an unfortunate view of Katarina in a bikini
washing her car. Perpetually disgusted and confused how the definition of
modesty had changed over the decades, she knew that making any kind of comment
or question to the young woman would only elicit words of disdain from her.
While not exactly
the most verbal person, Ludmila kept mental track of Katarina’s behavior and
choice of company. As she thought back over the past month, she could count
seventeen different men coming and going from Katarina’s front door on one
evening and the following morning. The thought of that volume of activity with
so many different people made her head spin, her stomach turn, and her sense of
morality convulse in response.
Ludmila worked
very hard at not being judgmental, for she understood that the youth of the
current day lived by a completely different system of thought and behavior than
she had at their age. When she was Katarina’s age, she was married with two
children, with several handfuls of responsibility. She knew love, she knew
sacrifice, and she understood the meaning of giving to others rather than
simply pleasing oneself.
Almost every
evening, she would watch Katarina leave her home in clothing that any decent or
moral person would never wear in public. Most evenings, Katarina would return
home with a different man and see him off the next day. She struggled to keep
thoughts out of her mind of what exactly was taking place so many evenings each
week, disgusted at the behavior that was so contrary to decency. She knew that
Katarina’s lifestyle would eventually land her in a place where no man would
even consider marrying her, for someone like this was certainly not wife
material.
After a light
brunch, Ludmila sat on her front porch, watching traffic and pedestrians travel
past while she sipped her iced tea in the oppressive heat. Sometime around one
in the afternoon, the neighbor on the opposite side of the street, a young man
named Brad open his garage door, turn on what he claimed was music and play
video games on a remarkably large computer screen. “The man is over thirty
years old,” Ludmila grumbled to herself, “and he spends his time playing. This should
be an embarrassment to any responsible adult.”
Nine in the
evening finally arrived and Ludmila watched Katarina climb into her car in what
some would call a dress but looked more like lingerie. She watched as Brad
turned his chair to watch Katarina slink across the driveway to then drive away
to a local nightclub. The loud and profane music from Brad’s garage continued
until almost midnight, when Katarina returned with another man in tow, to
disappear inside her home.
Ludmila had been
sleeping for several hours at this point and found her next morning a repeat of
the day before. Monday morning arrived and she watched Katarina sending away
another man from her front door and Brad drive away from his home, going to
work she assumed. She had risen before the terrible heat arrived and walked to
the grocery store with her wheeled metal basket in tow.
As the years
continued to flow past, Ludmila still retained her strong mind, her strong
body, and her sense of morality, watching Brad continually turn his mind to
mush with video games, professional wrestling, and comic books. She watched
Katarina grow older and older, to see a steady decline in male attention for
the cold, bitter, lonely woman who once was fit and pretty. At this point in
all of their lives, Ludmila knew that any words of advice or comments were too
little, too late.
She rose on the
morning of her ninetieth birthday, to welcome her sons, their families, their
children, and a great number grandchildren into her home for a celebration.
Surrounded by loved ones, happiness, and a history of fulfillment, they all sat
in the backyard enjoying a barbeque. She looked over the fence into Katarina’s
yard to see the girl who was once the attention of so many men, now alone with
an empty house. The young woman had destroyed her own life, not seeing the path
she took would only lead to emptiness and loneliness, having nothing and no one
to love or care for.
As evening began
to set in, she hugged every family member, thanked them for their time and
willingness to visit, inviting them back at any time for dinner, for coffee, or
for a brief chat. As her second son and his family drove away, she could see
Brad, once again, sitting in his garage playing video games. “There is nothing
more pathetic than a grown man who is starting to turn gray still playing games
like a child,” she grumbled to herself.
Another decade
passed and she remained independent and strong, still entertaining family and
friends on a regular basis. As she neared her hundredth birthday, she saw two
sale signs planted in the yards of her neighbors, wondering if something
happened to them, for she had seen little activity in either home for quite
some time.
Much to her joy,
she watched two young families move into the homes within a few weeks’ time,
bringing the sound of happy children, barking dogs, and normal family life into
the neighborhood. Ludmila had developed a routine over the past thirty years of
rising each morning at the same time, eating her meals at the same time, and
staying active enough to keep her muscles and heart strong.
While she watched
her new neighbors increase their families, she thought about Brad and Katarina
and wondered about their well-being, if they were still alive. She was
absolutely certain that both of them were sad, lonely, and possessed only worn-out
lives that produced nothing of value. Like owning and operating a vehicle and
at the same time not taking care of that vehicle, both Brad and Katarina had
drained all joy and fulfillment from their lives by being terribly short
sighted and self-centered.
In the same week,
she received two funeral invitations, one for Brad and another for Katarina,
which came as a surprise as she had little interaction with either of them.
Their arrival communicated to her that her mere existence and brief interaction
had some sort of impact upon their lives. She attended both funerals to see
that there were less than a handful of people at either one. As she sat and
listened to the funeral director read a brief letter from both of them, her
name was the only one mentioned as being a positive impact upon their lives.
Later that evening
after the second funeral, she sat in her living room reading over the funeral
announcement that neither one of them had any close friends, or family to see
them off as they passed into eternity. She thought back to the few times when she
spoke with both of them, wondering if she could have said or done more to help
redirect them. She knew it was wishful thinking, but at the same time, the mere
fact that both of them invited her to their funerals must mean something.
She prayed that
evening that they would find some kind of peace and rest wherever they ended up
after their respective demise.