Autumn Miracles

          A cool breeze blew across the old, faded porch, biting into the frail figure of Henrietta Smith. Shivering, the feeble old woman continued to rock gently back and forth, her chair creaking from age and wear. Her hands swiftly and expertly knitting the strands of baby blue and sea green yarn together in the form of a hat. Tiny was this cap—big enough for the head of a babe—her grandson, Aiden. Henrietta felt the lines of her face crease as a smile lit up her worn and weary features. Her youngest child had given birth to the petite infant earlier that same week, and though he was as plain as any babe born of a Smith, something about the tiny squirming ball of energy made her withered heart melt.

          She had once pondered whether it was his name that gave way to such affections—named after her husband who she'd spent many years with up until the passing spring. Henrietta's smile dimmed at the thought of her dearly departed love. Yes, he had been gone for four months now, and she could not bare to let go of his memory. Never again would she hear his large boots thumping along the kitchen floor, nor his deep, raspy laughter that always managed to make her smile. No more soft kisses on her forehead or whispered "I love you"s in passing. Henrietta's life had become a dull grey—her soul disintegrating gradually day by day, leaving her body a withered husk.

          As she looped her needle for another row, the shrill ringing of the telephone sounded from the kitchen, startling Henrietta and causing her heart to beat rapidly against her ribcage. Carefully rising from the rocker, the cracking of joints echoing as she did, Henrietta slowly made her way into the cottage and towards the kitchen. With little hesitance she grasped the phone, pulling it from its hook on the wall before pressing it against her ear.

          "Hello, Smith residence, this is Henrietta," she calmly rasped, age apparent in her tone.

          "Hey mom!" the cheerful voice of her daughter called out.

          A tired smile played on Henrietta's lips at the sound of her baby girl's excitement. She couldn't help but recall a memory of a little brunette with curly pigtails running about the yard—picking flowers and scaring the family dog, Butch. No matter what her youngest did, she always had a smile upon her face and rouge in her cheeks.

          "Hello, Sarah. How are you, honey?" she asked.

          A short lull in the conversation allowed her to hear Sarah yelling for her husband to change Aiden before she answered, "We're all fine, ma. We were able to bring Aiden home yesterday. His doctor said that if he doesn't gain more weight within the week that he might have to be checked into the infirmary again. Chris is changing him now, and then we were thinking of going to the grocery store to pick up more milk and eggs. How have you been?"

          How have I been, Henrietta pondered lightly. Her brows furrow as she purses her lips in thought.

          "I've been better, baby. Just missing your father is all," she admitted hesitantly.

          Henrietta didn't want to burden her children with the weight of her grief—most of them had their own issues to deal with. Again, silence filled the line as both women found themselves reliving memories of the past before the speaker crackled to life once more.

          "Hey, mom? Why don't you come up here and live with us for a little while? I figure you would want to see Aiden, and because of his condition, we can't really travel down there to see you yet. Chris and I will even pay for your trip up here."

          Henrietta instantly declined, "Oh, honey. I can't have y'all paying for me. Besides Ol' Red still has a few good miles on her."

          "Mom, Ol' Red has broken down how many times in the past two years? Hell, didn't Johnny just finish putting in a new radiator?"