The last Autumn

            “The cold breeze is nice” said Joe as he laid in bed. Autumn had arrived and the cool air of the season was blowing gently in through Joe’s open window. He lay in bed with a warm plaid flannel blanket covering him. Joe stared at the ceiling, his eyes half open and a drowsy expression across his face.

            “Why do you always mention the wind more than any other detail about the day? How about the trees, sunlight or even the traffic and people” Asked Joe’s brother Bill.

            “I love the wind, it travels across the land, it can go anywhere. It could be a warm breeze, a cool refreshing gust or a bitter winter wind. We can’t see it, but it changes so much of the scenery around us, moving trees and pushing over babies. It carries flower seeds and pollen. Its almost as romantic as rain. And best of all we can all create wind with our breath” Joe explained in a quiet groggy voice then inhaled and blew out air quickly through his mouth causing the thin curtains to shake and dance. “See, we all have it in us. Or bodies are made of water, our atoms are made of stars and we can create wind with our breath” Joe added.

            Bill smiled weakly. Joe made humans sound almost godly and maybe compared to other creatures they are, but gods didn’t die of diseases. Gods didn’t waste away in bed with a head full of medication. Bill didn’t know what to think, he didn’t have words or explanations for life. He just sat with his brother waiting for the inevitable. Bill tried to make himself useful but Joe rarely asked for anything and a nurse came by twice a day with his meds.

            Bill was in turmoil, he was the healthy one but his mind raged against life and he felt like he would cry at any moment. Joe stared peacefully at the swaying autumn trees. The world seemed so beautiful to him and while Bill worried, Joe’s mind was at peace.

            Days passed and little changed day by day. Medication, IV drip, a little tv, contemplation of life, Bill sometimes eats, Joe can’t eat anymore.

The sun rises, Bill opens the window, Joe wakes up and compliments the breeze. This happened every day, until one day, the sun raised, Bill opened the window and Joe didn’t wake up.

            A strong breeze blew in through Joe’s open window. It shook the curtains and knocked the flannel blanket to the floor. Bill’s tears streaked down his face, his hands trembled and he stood by the window unable to move as he muttered “The cold breeze is nice, right Joe?”