The Hedgerow

The paper arrived at 7:30 in the morning. I was out the door and at the front of the driveway at 7:32 am. Arthur was perched on the front porch of his craftsman house, already reading his newspaper before I had mine in hand. Arthur was quiet, and so was I. Our relationship was simple and oftentimes silent. We sometimes discussed the news over the hedgerow, shared recipes, and even exchanged baked goods and gardening tips. The hedgerow was our meeting place.

Last June, I was on my hands and knees pulling weeds between the zinnias when a shadow blocked my vision. Glancing up, I raised my forearm to wipe the sweat from my brow. There he was, standing on the opposite side of the hedgerow.

"You know, if you mix a little vinegar with dish soap and salt, it'll get rid of the weeds."

"Really?" I questioned, leaning backwards to sit on my legs.

"Try it and let me know."

The next week went by, and after I had discovered the mixture kept the weeds at bay I was thrilled. Despite the large age difference, we bonded over flowers. The following morning I woke up and went out to get the paper. When I turned to head back to the house, the chair on Arthur's porch was empty. A newspaper lay abandoned in the driveway. I paused for a moment and went and retrieved it, making my way up to the front door.

A young woman, probably around my age, answered the door. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Isla, Arthur's neighbor. I brought his paper."

"Isla? He's been asking for you." As we walked up the creaking stairs, she glanced back at me. "I'm Grace, Arthur's nurse."

My heart sank, but nothing prepared me for seeing him in his bed, ghostly white with dark rings around his eyes. I wanted to run, but I couldn't. I could not leave Arthur like this. Something took over me and I went to his side, taking a hold of his hand.

"It's Isla. I brought your paper. Do you want me to read it to you?"

"Isla?" His eyes opened slowly, and a weak smile spread across his face. "Oh, I'm so glad you've come."

Wiping a single tear from my cheek, I opened the newspaper to him until I heard his breathing soften and sleep take over him. Grace placed a hand on my shoulder and I shifted to face her.

"He thinks the world of you, Isla. You've always been so kind to him."

"I haven't done a thing... Honestly."

"You've been there for him, and you're here now."

Arthur passed that night.

I should have been a better neighbor, a better friend. I promised myself I would do better. The house next to mine is filled with laughing children that play in the sprinklers out front. However, the hedgerow still remains. And soon, I'll cross it again.