Jonas gently shooed the cat from his knees before slowly hoisting himself out of the well worn chair. The winter sun was disappearing and he could hear the crows heckling the day. The room in which he now passed most of his days felt cold and grey. Shuffling into the kitchen he carefully avoided the cat threading herself between his feet. ” You’ll be the death of me you old fur bag” he chuckled. She looked up at him purring. Two old companions – no one else remained.
She leapt up onto the kitchen counter and began to nuzzle his chest as he reached into the cupboard. He had started to feed her up there once it became impossible for him to bend to the floor. Once upon a time he would have never dreamt of allowing such a thing – what did it matter now? He put on a pot of fresh coffee and as it began to gurgle he reached for the cake tin. The ease with which he lifted it surprised him. He had eaten more of the cake than he could remember. It had been a gift from the mainland – homemade and filled with fruit and marzipan. He gave his stomach an admiring pat.
In the evening he loved to sit and make model airplanes – a boyhood past time he had never forsaken. He loved the ritual. Opening the box, arranging the pieces, deciding where to start and then lovingly constructing the beautiful replica. As a boy he had wanted to be a pilot. It never happened – he ran out of ‘tomorrows’.He always made time for his hobby though – imagining himself flying his creation across sprawling oceans or soaring high above snow capped mountains.
Preferring to work by the warm light of candles he settled himself at his desk by the window. The cat nestled herself on his lap and slept as he toiled. The arthritis meant his task took longer – he had learnt to be patient. Within the warm bubble of light the world fell away, his hands moved automatically like a piano virtuoso – allowing his imagination to take flight.