The Light is Low(er)

They call this the gloaming, this time of day as the sun sets low, glowing golden on the trees and mountains, lighting up glass windows and reflecting off metal roofs and antenna. The gloaming produces such a warm color, but belies the coolness in the air, which is crisp and chill, and likely to get colder as the day fades to night.

Natalie pulls her shawl close around her shoulders, hugging it to her hefty frame; blinded momentarily by the bright glare of sunlight reflecting off the windows of the house she approaches.

The house is old and run down. Tall weeds grow on either side of the pathway leading to the front porch; mostly concealing the wooden steps that creak in protest under her weight as she climbs to the landing.

The door is painted blue, but seems almost green in the brilliance of the light bouncing off it in this time of gloaming. The paint is peeling and bits of red show through. Natalie remembers when the door was red, back when she was but a child.

She nerves herself to lift the lions head knocker and lets it fall, once, twice, and finally a third time. Knock, knock, knock, it sounds, and it seems even the wind stills, as if waiting for a response.

Silence. No sound returns, no footfall approaches, no familiar call of "come in", or "coming," that Natalie expected. Just silence. She knocks again, liking the solid feel of the knocker in her hand. Like a summoning. But again, there is no response.

She tries the door knob, but it doesn't turn. It's bolted tight, which is unusual. Granny never bothers to lock the door when she's home, with the garage door open and her old Dodge Dart sitting in the driveway.

Natalie follows the porch past the old swing chair and pushes her nose up against the smudged window pane and peers into the living room. The room is dark, and Natalie can see it is empty; the old couch sagging, probably in relief that no one currently occupies its tired old frame.

There is a light at the end of the hallway, and sudden movement catches Natalie's eye. She wipes at the glass, trying to remove some of the dirt and smudges, unsure of what she is seeing. It looks like a shadow moving and undulating as if Granny is…

No!

Natalie is struck dumb at the incredulous sight, of this eighty three year old sprite, dancing with grace and abandon. Dancing as if she thought no one was watching!