She sat in her rocking chair, on the front veranda, and slowly moved back and forth as she listened to the sound of her children barking orders at her grandchildren and the energetic cries of her precious great granddaughters. She had lived in this house for her entire married life. Her darling husband Henry had built the home for her and over the years it had grown along with the family. She looked out across the front yard and watched as the wheat moved seductively in the summer breeze. She remembered as a young woman she had walked in the fields and she could, even now, feel the ears of wheat slide across her fingertips. She would watch as Henry ploughed yet another field. His shirtless body drenched in sweat, the muscles in his arms tightening as he manoeuvred the plough behind old Dante, their horse. Another birthday had come and gone and she was now the grand old age of 88. The years had passed so fast and she had not been ready for Henrys death 10 years passed, from cancer. “Gran do you want a lemonade, Mum said I should ask” Her reverie broken she looked at her great granddaughter Melissa and could see the wildness in her grass green eyes. “Thank you dear” she smiled as she took the glass of lemonade and sipped just a tiny bit. Today she had not felt like eating, or drinking for that matter, all she wanted to do was sit in the rocker Henry had made her and remember. She remembered when she had told him she was pregnant with their first child, how he had grabbed her up and spun her around his gold flecked green eyes twinkling and shining. She had run her hands through his midnight black hair and they had made love under the old Oak down by the river. The day she had told him the baby was coming. Oh how he had panicked, he was in and out of the door so many times she had finally kicked him out and told him to go away. She smiled now remembering the hurt look on his face. She had wanted to hold him and tell him it was going to be ok but she had been busy. That night he had bought in the rocker. Life had been hard and they were never rich but they had built a home and love filled every nook and cranny. “Mum are you ok, do you want to go for a lie down for awhile?” There stood her 3 children, her youngest daughter, Elizabeth, her son James and her firstborn Hannah. She looked at her children and remembered when they had grown and found loves of their own. Henry had been the proudest Gramps that ever lived. She smiled as she remembered how he had held his grandson in his arms, how he had whispered in his grandsons ear and slowly rocked him to sleep. Martha looked at her children again and thought about this morning when she had woken up. She had looked in the mirror and studied the thinning silver hair and deep brown eyes floating in a face of grooves and lines. She had wondered who that person was, so different from the young girl with long thick brown tresses and skin the colour of ripe wheat or at least that’s how Henry had described her. “I’m fine, just sitting here remembering. Now go on, go back and enjoy the party, I’ll be in soon”. Each one of her children gave her a kiss and went back to the chaos which was typical of the Johnson family gatherings. Martha went back to rocking and looked out over the golden wheat; suddenly she sat just a little bit straighter it looked like they were getting a visitor. She watched as a very small and blurry figure appeared in the wheat. She could see the figure come and go through the haze of the summer heat and wondered if, maybe, she was seeing things. She had long given up her glasses which she had left on her nightstand upstairs. She leaned back and started rocking again. Martha closed her eyes and remembered the thousands of times that Henry would come in from the fields, dirty and tired but he would always smile and ask how her day had been. Once the children had come along he had spent all his spare time playing and laughing with them. He had taught them all how to fish and hunt. Hannah had been so proud to come home with her first rabbit, but Elizabeth had been different she had cried and cried when Henry had shown her how to trap her first rabbit, She had begged and begged her father to let it go but its leg had been broken and that night after Elizabeth had finally stopped crying and had fallen asleep, Henry had cried, his heart broken with the pain his little girl had felt over the death of the rabbit. He hadn’t the heart to use the rabbit for stew and had dug a grave and with Elizabeth saying a few words had buried the poor dead creature as if it was one of his own. He had never taken Elizabeth hunting after that, instead had bought home animals that had been hurt and watched as his little girl healed them with her tender heart. Martha smiled at the memory of her big tough husband crying over the grave of a little rabbit because his daughter had been sad the creature had died. James had been the spitting image of Henry with his black hair and green eyes. He had turned out just like him as well, tough but tender. She looked up again and the wavering figure was coming closer, she could make out the dark shoulder length hair but with her eyes clouded and dimming could not make out much more. She wondered if the others had seen the visitor approaching as they had been coming and going the whole time but nobody had said anything to her so she continued rocking. It was getting late and the setting sun lit up the sky with hues of red and gold, she could hear the birds in the Oaks along the river getting ready to roost for the night. The cicadas had started their night song and the familiarity of the music was like heaven to her. Many an afternoon Henry and her had sat out here on the veranda just listening, feeling the warmth of the setting sun on their faces and filling every corner of their souls with peace. She looked up and the figure was coming closer, she could definitely tell it was a man but the figure seemed so familiar to her, like a long forgotten dream suddenly reappearing. She sat up much straighter and watched as the man moved his hands over the heads of wheat as he walked. Then she heard the whistling, it was a tune she hadn’t heard for a long time. She eased herself out of the rocker and slowly made her way down the front steps. Her heart started racing as she got a glimpse of the strong arms and the smooth walk of a man who knew who he was. She started walking a little faster the smile on her face grew bigger and the tiredness of her body seemed to leave her as she started running towards him. He looked up and she saw the flash of green/gold eyes gently smiling back at her. “Henry” she whispered as she felt his arms enfold her in their strength. She looked up at him and remembered every curve of his face, every line around his eyes. She ran her fingers through his hair and sighed as he leaned down and kissed her. He leaned back “Hello my love, how was your day” he said. She turned back to look at the house and all the family had gathered around her. She was still sitting in the rocking chair and she heard the cries and shouts. They would be fine; they were strong people, she would miss them all but they too will have to find their own way and she knew in her heart they would heal from her passing. Henry took hold of her hand and ran his fingers through her thick brown hair then they turned and walked into the setting sun, letting the heads of wheat slide under their hands and the warmth of the setting sun fill their souls with peace.