That was then, this is now.

Was it a rose? No, it looked more cloud shaped; red clouds perhaps. In my mind I pick up the patterned cloth and wiped down the damp benchtop. I remember it was a hot evening.

~

My skin felt as if it stood on the edge of an arid desert. This year's summer was much more hot than the last. Bushfires ravaged the towns, and it got harder and harder to sleep at night. The ever fervent night trapped me in lethargy - fixing me half-awake - though I stared into the back of my eyelids. Droplets of sweat on the border of my hairline rolled down to the tip of my ears. 

My eyes flared open. Whirrs and rushed noises tremored through the walls. I could hear doors opening, the sound of rubber brushing over tile floor. Wave after wave of nausea crashed into my senses as wave after wave of washed up voices fleeted pass my ears. The hand of the clock ticked one notch. I could hear the door chafe the ground as it shut, and with it, erratic yet predictable, the sound was shut out. The light seeping under my door dissipated into the veil of night. My eyes closed once more.

~

I could not tell what it was, but it was as if I experienced a potent dream that night. I'm really not that ignorant, or so I thought. My parents had told me that Grandma had "some sort of problem" but even then they did not sensor out the fact that they rushed her to the hospital. At this moment, she's alive and well. However something else died that day.

I notice now after she returned two years ago. Plane took off, plane touched down. It was understandable that while Grandma lingered to recover from her inevitable frailty that out family wouldn't go anywhere. Summer after summer has passed, each one bearing fires and sleepless nights. We still haven't gone anywhere. I remember that letters and letters with a red 'W' constructed out of leaf shapes come in and out. In and out. Thinking back, we never did much after those letters came. Guess it costs more than just effort to save a life.