The Maples Vacation

                    Autumn Maple Leaves. Katsushika Hokusai. 1760-1849


Louis seldom saw the outside of his house. He liked the inside of his house. 
Specifically, he liked his chair, one of a pair he and Ellen bought on sale at the Furniture Mart in 1952. 
More specifically, he liked sitting in his chair, looking out the window. 

Ellen, and her chair, were long gone. 

Outside the window in the square of yard that went with the house was the one maple tree whose leaves turned a wonderful red in the fall, and then clogged the gutters and downspouts when they fell. When Ellen was alive she inspired Louis to set up the extension ladder, a noisy corroded aluminum contraption he hated, and climb to the eave, and, using a broken bamboo rake, cleared most of the leaves. The house was two stories, so we’re talking serious elevation, and the ground never quite as flat as he would like for the ladder’s floppy feet. 

But, that chore died with Ellen, not that Louis wished it that way. 

Sometime after Louis turned 80 he noticed some of his behaviours might not meet the bar of best practices on the domestic sphere, but he didn’t care. That was the curious thing. He knew what he was doing, but so what? For example, managing leftovers. Instead of putting them into a container, and then putting the container in the icebox, he left them in the pan on the counter, even on the stove, until the next time he was hungry, which might be that same day, maybe the next day, or the next. 

No one calls them icebox any more Dad. 

One interesting thing to him outside the window was the gray squirrels who lived in the maple tree. Their athleticism impressed him every time, that ability to run up and down a vertical wall of bark. On the other hand, their frenetic movements and varminty faces were not so attractive. More interesting were the glimpses of Serena, the South American woman who lived next door. He couldn’t remember which country. Serena wasn’t shy about getting dressed while looking out her bedroom window, probably at Louis’ maple tree, and he wasn’t shy about watching her. After all, Ellen was dead, there was no one to care. 

Their relationship went deeper than Louis’ voyeurism though, and possibly Serena’s exhibitionism, though we are not sure about that. After Ellen died Serena volunteered to do Louis’ grocery shopping for him after he injured his hip in a fall. This evolved into a highly satisfactory arrangement for both of them, and it lasted long after Louis recovered and was capable of shopping for himself again. For one thing, Louis hated the lines at the check out counters. It was usually the women, who prolonged the payment and bagging process unnecessarily chatting up the cashier. Seconds went by with Louis’ seedy bread, flax milk, carrots, and chia seeds and so forth sitting still on the conveyor. The worst were women who did not bag their own groceries, but apparently self endowed with entitlement, watched their items scanned through and piled up in the bagging area until the cashier finished and started the bagging herself. Louis never asked, but he was quite sure Serena was a woman who bagged her own groceries. 

After several months of Serena doing Louis’ grocery shopping for him, and Louis having recovered from his fall that he might do his own shopping, he started to pay her. It was only fair, and he was a fair man so he thought. She seemed to know just what to buy without him making a list, and that was worth something, worth a lot actually, getting your groceries delivered to your home without so much as having to say a word about it. 

Isn’t the maple tree lovely this fall Louis. 
He did love the sound of her Spanish accent. Probably Spanish.
You know some of the leaves fall on my side of the fence, and I collect them and make wreaths. 
That sounds nice, said Louis, who didn’t know she made wreaths. 
Maybe you would like one. 
I don’t know Serena, there are so many outside, I don’t think I need any inside. 
I’ll make one anyway, and we will see. 

Since their mother died Louis’ daughters became increasingly fearful of their dad living alone. Visiting became increasingly unpleasant for them. The smells, the moldy containers in the refrigerator, the dust on the dining room table, where you could actually see the table, under the newspapers and food containers. Apparently, they noted, the woman next door had been ordering in Thai and Chinese for Louis, and by the look of things in quantities far in excess of single servings. Once they found crumpled dollar bills and coins in one of the empty bags. 

The fall was the last straw for the girls, but when they raised the subject of moving to some place called Maples, Louis said no way and made a joke about changing his will if they pushed the idea. To demonstrate his ongoing engagement with the wider world he ordered a pair of binoculars, very fine binoculars, Swarovskis. Why not he said, birdwatching is my main hobby and pastime, why not have the best. One of the girls went home and googled his purchase and saw they cost over $3000, which to her mind made a dent in her inheritance. 

Dad, there are never any birds out there, what were you thinking?
You have to know where to look, he said. 

So the girls, half with worry for dear dad, half with alarm, half with guilt, and half with a righteous feeling of responsible caretaking made a plan. They signed papers and put down a deposit for a room at Autumn Maples Home, which touted Safe, Creative and Healthy Living Ever After.

Be assured your father will be well cared for, even loved here, said RubiLee, with her fat red lips. 

Almost simultaneously, the girls made reservations for a long weekend for the three of them at Blue Lake in the Adirondacks. 

Louis thoroughly enjoyed the Swarovskis and mused they were his best investment ever. He’d long been curious about Serena’s nipples, and the fine glasses seemed to bring them right into his living room, so very close to his chair, in fact. And then he chanced to glimpse a red flash in the maple tree. Cardinals never landed in the maple tree. But this one did. He found he could switch between Serena’s areolas and the cardinal without changing focus. After a minute the cardinal flew away,  so he panned back to Serena, but she was gone too.

It’s all set Dad. They’d brought along the brochures of Blue Lake to show him. You have your own room with a water view. We’re just down from the museum, which you love. There’s a demonstration for building a guideboat, and we lucked out. The loggers’ competition is that weekend, chopping, sawing, and even river drivers’ log rolling with caulked boots.  

You girls sound like you know what you’re talking about, caulked boots ! 

When Serena brought his groceries that week, he told her about the little vacation the girls planned for the three of them. She encouraged him. 

It will be good for you to get out Louis. There’s more to life than watching a tree all day. 

Is there? Do you really believe that? Well, I haven’t made up my mind yet. 



( Spur of the moment story this morning after seeing an inadvertent prompt in a friend's email. ) : )