New Life

• Stephanie Lam, Grade 12, Sefton High School -
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Write Along 2018' competition

By now, Sarah had memorised the passing footsteps and the squeak of the mid-afternoon trolley that approached her room and then faded down the hallway. As each day passed, the yellow on the walls seemed to fade further into a bland beige. On them hung watercolour paintings of cottages, a reminder that Meredith was ‘home’.
Sarah was yet to get used to Meg. Meg was what you called an idealist. Obliviously content. From the other side of the room, she heard Meg whistling as the carer dressed her for the day. Always the same clothes-God knows how many khaki pants she must have had. Meg called them her gardening clothes.
“Sarah,” called Meg with her usual enthusiasm. “Have you heard of the latest gardening project? It’s called ‘New Life’. Wanna come along?” Meg smiled, her gums exposed. Meg was a teenager, attitude and lingo and all.
“For the last time, I’m not gardening,” Sarah exhaled and reminded herself again of Meg’s dementia.
“Well, it’s a new day, new life,” Meg chuckled.
Sarah almost felt sorry for the old girl. Who was she trying to fool? What new life? Everyone here was just waiting to die, right? Sarah struggled to shrug off the thought as she reached for the remote.
Time didn’t seem to exist for Meg; every day really was a new day. Meg lived in an eternal present. It was as though Meg’s Pause had become her Play; Sarah’s Play had become her Pause.
“Don’t you get it Meg? This is our last stop. We’re like dead plants left here to rot,” Sarah whispered, her eyes searching for an answer. There was a heavy silence between them.
Meg froze. Her toothless grin faded into a look of confusion.
“You’re thinking of the 418, goes all the way to the terminal, plenty of stops left dear, was a bus driver you know, first Sheila on the force, never really had time to garden then, but no, definitely not the last stop, it’s the 426 you’re after love.” Meg’s soft rambling continued.
Sarah couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Meg,” Sarah whispered.
It was the first time in a while that she had walked through the hallways alone. “Sarah!” Meg called out, waving her trowel.
“Have you heard of the latest gardening project, Sarah? It’s called ‘New Life.’ Meg smiled, holding up a tomato in her other hand.
Nodding, Sarah took a hesitant step, slippers pressed against the cold tiles. With each footstep, her senses overcame her aching joints, her ceaseless mind and memories. In the silence, Sarah could hear her own breath. She could feel the rays of warm sunlight tickling her skin. Sarah walked towards the garden patch, immersing herself in the luscious greenery. She reached out a hand toward a hanging potted fern and her fingers felt the life that was in the soil. New life and old life. The two had become intertwined.
In that moment Sarah felt alive.
She knew she had hit Play.