Nothing.
I was about to leave when I heard a cough from inside. The door was unlocked, so I let myself in. “Roger?
It’s Emma from the grocery store,” I called out.
“Emma,” I heard him say weakly from a room. I followed the sound and found him lying on the couch, looking sick and pale. “Roger!
Are you alright? Where’s your wife?” I asked.
He slowly turned his head towards a table with an urn and a photo of a woman. “Laura passed away,” he said quietly.
My heart sank.
“I’m so sorry, Roger. I was worried when you didn’t come to the store,” I told him, helping him sit up. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in days.
I gave him some medicine and went to the kitchen to cook him something.
I saw the chicken pot pie ingredients on the counter, untouched. “Has his wife been gone for a while?” I wondered.
I cooked the pot pie, hoping it would make him feel better. When it was ready, I brought it to him.
“I know it’s not as good as Laura’s, but I hope it helps,” I said.
Roger smiled weakly. “Thank you, Emma. I haven’t had chicken pot pie in over four years,” he said.
“Why do you buy the ingredients if you don’t cook it?” I asked gently.
“To be honest, Emma, I’ve been living in a fantasy where I think Laura will come back.
So I prepare all the ingredients for when she returns. And at the end of the day…I just leave it outside the house for anyone in need to take home,” he admitted, tears in his eyes.
“She will always be with you, Roger. Maybe not physically, but in your heart,” I said, trying to comfort him.
From that day on, I promised to check on Roger regularly.
I cooked him meals every week, which he could reheat whenever he wanted. He became healthier and rarely got sick. And that’s how Roger and I became family.
Life works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?
So, keep your heart open and your spirit curious — because sometimes, the best chapters are written later in life.
