State of Mind

State of Mind

Helen Parker sat in her kitchen, gazing out the window. Spring was just beginning outside: the last of the frost was thawing, crocuses poked through the grass, but for Helen, it might as well have been deep autumn. It had been three years since her husband passed, and it still hadnt gotten easier. Shed got used to it, or so it seemed, but insideemptiness. As if someone had taken away the most vital part, and the rest, though still turning, moved forward with a sad grinding.

Her children lived far away. Her son in London, her daughter in Edinburgh. The grandchildren had grown up, living their own busy lives. They called on birthdays and at Christmas, sometimes sent pictures through WhatsApp. Helen would look at those photos and smile, but then shed retreat to her window and watch the street.

The neighbours invited her out sometimes, but what was the point? Sit on a bench, complain about aches and pains? Hardly appealing. She and her husband used to walk in the park together, go to the cinema at weekends or visit friends. Now, she had no one to go withand barely any purpose to leave the house.

Her fridge held the bare essentials. She didnt need much just for herself. Television was full of soppy romances that only made her lonelier.

Helen, youll do yourself in like this, her friend Norma would sigh, popping in once a week. Its time you got out a bit. Join a club, maybe dancing for the retired; its a good laugh!

What on earth would I do at a dance, Norma? Helen waved her hand. Theres no one for me to dance with. No point, is there?

Norma would shake her head and take her leave, while Helen would be left to her window once more.

***

At the end of May, her granddaughter Sophie came to stay. A second-year university student, all chat and music blaring from her headphones, she came crashing through the quiet of Helens flat like a whirlwind.

Gran, hello! Im here for the whole summer! Ive had enough of Londonneed some peace and your pies!

Helen came alive again. Suddenly it was all pies, roasts, shepherds piesthe works. Sophie devoured everything with gusto, telling stories about university, her friends, and someone named Josh, whoapparentlyjust doesnt get it.

Gran, how are you anyway? Sophie asked at last, as they sat in the kitchen drinking tea, jam on the side.

Oh, you know, Helen sighed. Just listening to you. I might wash the windows tomorrow.

Do you miss… everything?

I do, Soph. Very much.

Sophie eyed her for a moment and then her face lit up. Gran, Ive an idea! Why dont we download a dating app for you?

Helen nearly choked on her tea.

Have you gone mad? What kind of suggestion is that? Im sixty-eight!

So what? Sophie grinned. Plenty of folks your age on there. Sat at home, feeling lonely, just looking for a bit of company. You might even meet someone interesting. Even just for walks.

Dont be silly, Helen scoffed. I was married for nearly fifty years; now Ill be searching for men on my phone? The embarrassment.

Wholl know? Sophie laughed. It can be our secretincognito, you see? Lets just try it, for fun.

Helen spluttered and waved her hands in protest, but later that evening, after Sophie went out with her mates, curiosity got the better of her. What was this app all about?

She found it, downloaded it, set up an account. She chose an old photoone from a seaside holiday, cropping out her late husband. She wrote: Helen, 68. Looking for a companionsomeone to walk and chat with.

And promptly forgot all about it.

***

She awoke in the morning to a ping from the app:

Hello, Helen. My names Margaret, Im 64. Also looking for a friend for walks. Love strolling around parks, breathing the fresh air. I miss company, maybe we could meet?

Helen read it twice. Margaret. A woman. Not a man, as shed imagined.

Sophie! she called. Come here! Someones messaged me.

Who? Sophie hurried in, grabbing the phone. Look, Gran! Shes about your age. She wants a walking buddy!

And what am I meant to do about that? Helen was flustered.

Meet up, obviously! What are you waiting for?

So, three days later, they met in the park. Helen was nervous as a schoolgirltried on three jumpers and two skirts before settling on her usual clothes.

Margaret turned out to be a sprightly, petite woman with lively eyes and a big laugh. She got straight to the point.

Helen, Im delighted! Sitting home alone is a slow death. I reckon well have a lot in common. Were you married? Im widowed too. Kids? My sons in Germanywe see each other once a year. Lets be friends!

They talked for three hourswalking the park paths, sharing a bench, then walking some more. Margaret also loved embroidery, old films, and missed her husband deeply. She too didnt know how to fill the days.

Shall we meet again? Margaret asked as they said goodbye.

Lets, Helen agreed. Shall we say, Saturday?

And, for the first time in a long while, she smiled genuinely.

***

A month later, they saw each other nearly every day. The park, the riverside, sometimes just long chats in the kitchen over tea. Margaret was a fountain of ideas.

Lets find more people, she suggested one afternoon. Theres loads of women on that app our age. All cooped up at home, wrestling with loneliness. Lets make a group.

What sort of group? Helen didnt get it.

A club, love! Interests and all. Outings, tea parties, films to discuss. I fancy trying Nordic walkingmeant to be great for you. But its dull solo. With a group, perfect!

Helen was hesitant at first. Clubs, fitness classesit sounded so unfamiliar. But Margaret pressed on. Within a week, theyd found two more: Linda and Ruth. And a week laterthree more.

Thus, Light Steps was born. Linda, a former teacher with a passion for organising, came up with the name.

Nordic walking Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays! she declared. Tuesdays: tea and book chats. Thursdays, well have the cinema or exhibitions. Weekendsa rest, unless we fancy meeting up!

At first, Helen just joined in. Then, before she knew it, she was running the group chat. Before long, new members were being registered by her hand. Eventually, they chose her as their leader (Lindas bright idea again).

Youre a born organiser, Helen! Margaret beamed. You bring us all together. Wed be lost without you.

Helen brushed it aside, but inside, she felt a warmth she hadnt known in years.

***

The local newspaper caught wind of their club. A young journalist came down, asked questions, took pictures, wrote notes. A week later, an article appeared: Active Ageing: Pensioners Change Their Lives Together.

Helen stared at her own photo in print, disbelieving. There she stood in the centre, Nordic walking poles in hand, positively beaming. And the smile on her face looked young again.

Then, the local BBC crew called.

Helen Parker, wed like to do a segment about your clubwould that be alright?

She did not want it. Absolutely not. But Margaret and Linda werent having any excuses.

Helen, its for the good of the group! More people will hearmaybe some will want to join. Wont it be wonderful helping the lonely?

She had to agree.

Filming took three hours. Lena, the reporter, was sweet and tactful, asking about how things started, why they met, and what the club gave them.

You see, Helen told the camera, after you lose a loved one, you feel your life is over. That youre needed by no one. Especially with children so far away. But the truth iswell, you are needed. For yourself, first and foremost. We found each otherand now every morning theres a reason to get up. A walk, a chat, the simple promise of a new day.

The piece aired on the evening news. Helens phone rang all night: neighbours, old friends, even former colleagues. Within a week, the club had twenty new members.

***

Helens seventieth birthday was coming up. A big milestone. She didnt want a fusswhats the point in a party at her age? But the club thought otherwise.

Helen, youre our star! We must throw you a proper party! Margaret announced. A café do, music, and a little dance. Youre the main guest, so enjoy!

Helen protested, but secretly she was pleased. She even bought a new dressblue with a small floral print, like she used to wear as a girl, and a smart pair of low-heeled shoes.

Then her son rang from London.

Mum, were coming up for your birthday. Me, Alice, and the kids.

What, really? But youve work, the children have school

Well take time off. Arrange something. We want to celebrate with you. Its been too long.

The night before, Helen barely sleptcleaning, cooking, fussing. When her son and his family walked through the front door, she realised it had been nearly three years. Her grandchildreneighteen and fifteen nowwere all grown-up, hardly recognisable.

Gran! Her granddaughter hugged her tight. You look… different. Younger, even?

Helen laughed, You see, weve got an active age club now. No time for feeling old!

They held her birthday in a little café. Almost the whole club camedressed up, with flowers and gifts. Neighbours came, and old colleagues. Margaret hosted the evening, Linda read a poem shed written, and Ruth strummed a song on her guitar.

Her son watched, hardly able to believe it. Three years ago, his mum had been grey, hunched over, hopeless. Now

Mum, is this really you? he asked when they sat together for a quiet moment.

It is, love, she smiled. I was alone before. Now Ive friends, a purpose, something to wake up for. You see?

I do, he nodded. Im sorry we didnt visit more often.

Dont be silly, she brushed it off. Youve your own life. And now, Ive got mine. Imagine that.

Just then, a video call came inSophie, beaming from her phone.

Happy birthday, Gran! Im so proud of you! Remember when you thought it was nonsense, that app?

Nonsense, Helen agreed, laughing. The best kind of nonsensesometimes its what turns life around.

***

Epilogue

A year later, Light Steps had become a citywide name. They were invited on TV, had features written about them, and their members started other clubsone for knitting, one for painting, even a theatre group.

Helen was now their coordinator, with helpers, a calendar, plans for months in advance.

Her family visited often now. The grandchildren messaged her for advice and photos. Sophie, the same granddaughter, came for work experience at the local papershe said she wanted to write about active pensioners, inspired by her gran.

Youre my inspiration, Gran, she would say.

Helen just smiled and looked out the window. And now, it was not autumn outside, but the fullest, brightest spring.

Life goes on. And its beautiful.

Helen still has that app on her phone. Sometimes she peeks at new profiles, but shes not searching anymore. Shes found the most important thing of allherself.

And to the newcomers at the club who arrive shyly, Helen says, Dont be afraid! Lifes longer than we think. In any age, you can start againeven if you thought it was all over.

And they believe her. Because in front of them is a vibrant, joyful woman, who at seventy became a local star. Who proved age is just a number, and life is a state of mind.