I shouted out the window, “Mum, what are you doing out there so early? You’ll catch your death!” She glanced back, waved her shovel in greeting, and joked, “Im just trying to keep up with you lot, the lazybones!” The next day, she was gone.
I still cant walk past our old front garden without my heart clenching. Every time I see that winding path, its like someones squeezing my insides. It was me who took that photo on the 2nd of Januaryjust happened by, saw those neat footsteps on the snow, and paused. Snapped a picture, not even sure why. Now, its all Ive got left of those days…
We spent New Years the way we always dideveryone together. Mum was up bright and early on the 31st, as ever. I woke to the smell of frying burgers and her cheerful voice from the kitchen: Come on, love, up you get! You can help finish the salads, or your dad will scoff the lot before weve even sat down!
I stumbled downstairs in my pyjamas, hair wild. She was by the stove, wearing her favourite apron with peaches on itthe one Id given her back in school. She smiled at me, cheeks flushed from the oven. Mum, can I at least have my coffee first? I groaned. Coffee later! First, the potato salad! she laughed and tossed me a bowl of roasted veg. Chop them finely, for goodness sakenot those great boulders you did last year.
We sliced away, talking about this and that. She told me stories about her childhood New Years Evesno fancy foreign salads, just a bit of herring under a coat of beetroot, and those mandarins Grandad would somehow bring home from work.
Then Dad came in, practically wrestling with the Christmas treeabsolutely massive, nearly scraping the ceiling. Alright, ladies, look what Ive dragged in! he called proudly from the door. Blimey, Dad, have you flattened a whole forest? I gasped. Mum came out, took one look, and just said, Beautiful, but where on earth are we going to put it? The last one was at least a bit smaller! Still, she helped us decorate. I hung tinsel with my little sister, Claire, while Mum went digging through boxes for the old ornamentsthe ones from when I was little. I remember her holding this little glass angel and saying so softly, Bought this for your very first Christmas, remember? Course I do, Mum. I didnt, but I nodded. She lit up so much when I said that…
My brother arrived just before evening, all noise and bustlearms full of shopping bags and bottles. Mum, bought the good fizz this year! Not that sour stuff we had last time! Just dont drink yourself silly! Mum laughed, hugging him tight.
At midnight, we all trooped outside. Dad and my brother set off fireworks, Claire squealed in delight, and Mum pulled me in close. Look at that, lovewhat a beautiful life weve got. I squeezed her, The very best, Mum.
We passed the champagne around the circle, giggling when a rocket went careening off into the neighbours shed. Mum, a little tipsy, danced around the garden in her woolly boots to Rockin Around the Christmas Tree, and Dad swept her up in his arms. We laughed until our sides ached.
On New Years Day, we just lazed about. Mum kept cookingthis time, meat pies and her legendary trifle. Mum, enough already! Well be rolling out of here! I moaned. She just waved me off, No such thing, lovea proper New Year lasts a week!
January second, she was up at the crack of dawn, like always. I heard the front door slam, peered out the window, and spotted her in the garden, shovelling snow. Still in her old puffy coat, headscarf tied up neat. She cleared the path from the gate to the porchstraight and narrow, just the way she liked it. Piled the snow up against the house, every bit looking tidy.
I couldnt help myself, so I shouted through the window, Mum, what are you doing out so early? Youll freeze! She turned, waved the shovel, and called back, If I left it to you lazybones, wed be wading through snowdrifts till spring! Go and put the kettle on!
I grinned and headed for the kitchen. She came in half an hour later, cheeks like apples, eyes shining. All donelooks lovely, doesnt it? Its perfect, Mum. Thanks. That was the last time I heard her voice so full of life.
The next morning, 3rd of January, she woke softly, saying, Girls, Ive got this odd pain in my chest. Not bad, just… strange. Straight away, I got anxious. Mum, lets call the doctor? Oh, dont fuss! Ive just overdone it, all that cooking and running about. Ill rest, itll pass. So she lay down on the sofa, with Claire and me keeping an eye on her. Dad dashed off to the chemist. She even joked, Stop looking so gloomy. Ill see you all out, youll see.
But then, suddenly, her face went pale, and she clutched her chest. Oh… I dont feel right… really not… We rang for the ambulance. I held her hand, whispering, Come on, Mum, hold on… helps on the way… She looked at me, barely able to speak. Love… I adore you all so much… I dont want to say goodbye. The paramedics got there quickly, but… there was nothing they could do. A massive heart attack. It all happened so fast.
I sat on the hallway floor wailing. Just yesterday shed been dancing under the fireworks, happy as anything, and now… I barely made it to the garden. Hardly any fresh snow had fallen. And there were her footprintssmall, neat, every one in line. From the gate to the porch, just as she always did. I just stood there, staring at them forever, thinking, How can someone walk here, leaving their marks, and the next day theyre just… gone? You see the prints, but not the person. It felt like shed come out that last morning just to clear a path for us, so we could make our own way, even without her.
I couldnt bear to sweep them away, and told everyone not to touch them either. Let them be, until the snow buried them for good. That was her last little act of love for ustaking care of us, even when shed gone.
A week later, the garden vanished under a thick blanket of snow. But Ive still got that photo of her last steps. Every 3rd of January, I get it out, look at the empty path outside the house, and feel the ache all over againknowing somewhere under all that snow are the tracks she left behind. The ones Im still following, even now.
