(my lovely Grandma’s story)

Morning. I woke up before the alarm. I used to never be able to get up early, but now I wake up on my own — exactly at seven. Perhaps this is what aging feels like. I want to lie in bed a little longer, but the cat arrives. He demands breakfast with the gaze of a professional manipulator. I have no choice but to get up. I head to the kitchen, and he follows me, as if to make sure I don’t get lost on the way.

I pour him some food and brew myself a cup of coffee. While I have breakfast, I look out the window. It’s raining: the green branches of the trees tap against the glass. It reminds me that I should water the cactus. It stands in the corner on the windowsill. For some reason, only cacti survive in my home — everything else wilts.

After breakfast, I sit down at my laptop. Today I need to publish a new chapter of my book. I worked hard all my life, so now I have enough savings to do what I truly love.

At noon, I go for a walk — I take an umbrella, put on my coat, and head to the park. On the way back, I meet a neighbor with her dog. We exchange a few words. It’s strange how even a short conversation can brighten your whole day.

In the evening, my friends come over with a bottle of white wine. We share news, reminisce about our youth, laugh — and then part ways.

It’s time for bed. How quickly the day goes by. Sometimes people ask me if I ever feel lonely without a family; all my kids have grown up and flown away from the family nest long and long ago… I just smile. My life may not be perfect — but it’s mine. I’ve lived it the way I wanted.

And you know what? There’s rain rustling outside the window, the cat is sleeping beside me — and I’m happy. I regret nothing.