Winter People

by Gráinne Murphy

Whoever she was, she would find it a penance being this far west in a wet November if she wasn’t prepared to get out and see the beauty in the wildness.

Sis held on to the newel post, steadying herself before reaching into her pocket for the stone and replacing it on the concrete base. ‘There, now,’ she said, as much to herself as to the dog. ‘There’s a mark made on the day.’ A little addition and subtraction of their progress through the world. Weren’t they entitled to it? Sure, if they didn’t notice themselves, who would?

It was a sad day when being out in the fresh air, rejoicing in the health and strength of your body, was something that had to be scheduled.