This is my grandmother, a person who I hold in high esteem. In summertime she sits on this bench in front of her house every evening (as you can probably see ).
This year it feels very different watching her. She more and more fades in her own world and seems to absorb the summer as much as she can. Often I think she knows, that this will be her last.
She doesn't want to die in wintertime, because there's no live all around and she is always afraid of never seeing the swallows come back, to nestle under the roof of her house, again. So there always comes the thought that deep in her mind she plans to go in autumn. - Which weighs me down more, than I had ever expected, as she is a fundamental mosaic of home.