In the one and a half years that we’ve lived here I’ve only visited her one time. Although her family visited several times a week, I knew that she was lonely. She would sometimes sit on her front porch, leaning against the brick wall in her pale flowered house dress with her swollen legs and feet disappearing into shapeless slippers and floppy ankle socks.
Or if she was having a better day she’d sit on her back porch and call out “Hello Neighbour.” I’d respond and walk over to the fence to exchange a few thoughts about the weather. Katrina invited me over one day to pick plums. While I picked she urged me “Take more. Take more.” My husband doesn’t eat much fruit and I didn’t want the plums to go bad. I offered her grapes from our vines but she said she couldn’t eat them.