There are people who have their own unique vision of what it means to grow older. I was lucky enough to meet one of them. This is a story about a one-of-a-kind neighbour. A lady who is onto you. You, with all your stereotypes about life and the elderly! This is the story about Rosie.

Image Pexels, Nadine Ginzel

When I first met Rosie (she preferred to be called by her first name) she was standing by the gate between our little bungalows. Rosie was about 86. And like many people, I thought she must be old and fragile and in need of some company soon. But as feeble, small and cute as she looked at first glance, her first words surprised me. For starters, she spoke with such a strong local accent that it gave her a life force I did not expect. She was a story teller and as I was given my first tale about the rabbits that lived around us, there was something about Rosie. The strength she had, the uniqueness of character.

As life went on after that first meeting, I often saw Rosie sitting on the couch behind her steamed-up window. Soon we started simulating small conversations through her window as I walked by. “Are you okay today?” I would ask with my hands, sometimes jumping or falling under her window as part of the conversation. Rosie had a sense of humour and was creative with language. She could also be quite sassy and say words that I can’t repeat here. Sometimes all we had to do was look at each other to know what we meant, before we would have a laughing fit.

Just for you

Anyway, it wasn’t until later that I discovered what kind or person Rosie really was. Like when she came around the corner carrying a garden table above her head. It was three times her size. “I found something for you,” she had shouted in that small but powerful voice. I hadn’t told her anything, but that morning I had thought I should get a garden table.

Because somehow, Rosie always knew what people needed in life. And somehow she always had something suitable in her garden shed. Often, Rosie would go through its rickety door and come out with just the thing. It was like a magic shop. And so, as I began to realise more and more, this was not a stereotypical lady. Never mind a stereotypical old person.

Need some help with that?

As the seasons changed, I would sometimes look out the window and see Rosie fixing her roof. Or tile her own terrace. Sometimes you heard a noise like a small lost plane. It would be Rosie pushing her heavy old lawn mower. This was not a vulnerable older lady. And she certainly did not need help, as we often expect from the elderly.

In fact, she fixed things and did stuff around the house that most of us would hire someone to do. Rosie even knew how to drain her chalet’s water system for the winter. She did that with her own homemade compression pump, one of the many tools she kept in her shed. I suspect she had always been inventive and independent. But especially since her husband’s death, she had had to learn to survive on her own. And she most certainly did.

The Rosie treatment

There were always those well-meaning visitors of Rosie who mistook her for the stereotypical ageing lady in need of help. But they would soon be helped out of that delusion. I used to see it happening from my kitchen window.

Instead of being able to help Rosie with something, they would be walking out of the door with their arms full with a bowl of her home-made food. And you would hear Rosie screaming: “Now I can hardly eat all this by myself, can I? Hurry yourself up out of the rain!” as they would make their way through the garden. There’s another one who’s just had the Rosie treatment, I used to say to myself. This ”old lady” was there for us. It was never the other way around.

“There’s another one who’s just had the Rosie treatment, I used to say to myself. Rosie was there for us, not the other way around.”

Practical ideas for life

Rosie was always there for me too. First, there were the delicious bowls of soup, or slices of cake over the fence. It was always just when you had a craving for something, but didn’t have it in the house.

She also helped me with my DIY challenges. It always started with a loud tapping on the window and a lot of mime. While I was awkwardly trying to build a fence or something, she would be pointing at things. It would be followed by the shuffling around the corner of her chalet. Then the short pause at the gate. Some more pointing, followed by “If you were smart, you would do this…”. And before you knew it, she was standing in your garden hammering on things. And because we were equally stubborn, this scene always had a slapstick quality.

Nothing fazed her

One day I came home from my morning walk with my dog ​​and found another chalet next to mine. It was a strange sensation. Just in the time it had taken me to get back from the walk, it had been put there. It marked the beginning of a new era for the bungalow park. From now on it would be filled with chalets, appearing from nowhere in the smallest places.

And as I stood there, all kinds of neighbours began to gather behind me. One of them nudged me and asked whether the park management had at least had the decency to inform me. This confirmed the mood I had been feeling. And just as the angry reactions grew stronger, Rosie arrived, as did the park’s manager. It was one of the first moments I discovered that nothing fazed Rosie. And, that she would have your back. So, as she started berating the manager, who looked at her with a twinkle, she started pleading my case. If there had been a picket line, she would have been there all day.

There were also days when Rosie had problems with her legs. But it didn’t stop her from tending her lush garden. You then saw her shuffling by in a chair. It didn’t dampen her sense of humour either. She would ask me to check on her later, or something. You know, in case she had ended up behind a bush somewhere.

Old and lonely in life?

There was also the matter of Rosie’s circle of friends. I was maybe thirty years younger than she was; her social life was more active than mine. Sometimes, while I was working in my small office, I would hear the voices of Rosie and her friends floating in. Her social circle, which was of all ages, sat on the round bench in the bay window. Behind the foggy windows there were loud shouts of joy and enormous bursts of laughter. I’m sure I saw her caravan moving sometimes!

As I came to learn over time, these women, and many other people who knew Rosie, would pop round daily. They would also go shopping together, and go out for dinner in some fancy restaurant.

In the summer, children from all over came to see Rosie. Rosie had lived in her chalet for over thirty years, and people just knew her. She would disappear into that magical shed and come out with the most delicious ice creams. On an extreme hot day you might even see one of the park’s technical staff queuing for one.

To keep you on your toes with your stereotypes about the elderly, Rosie did knit. In fact, Rosie made a high number of cardigans. Some people were given them for free, others were asked to pay a hefty price. That always made me laugh. Why not, I would think, she had spent hours and hours making them: they were worth it. They were beautiful and warm, and she certainly wasn’t silly!

“Behind the fogged-up windows of her caravan there were always loud joyful shouts and enormous bursts of great laughter.”

A little old lady…

At night, after returning from my last dog walk, Rosie would still be sitting there. In her comfy chair behind the steamed up window. Unlike other people in the park, Rosie preferred to leave her curtains open and you could spot her bungalow from afar. Her windows lit brightly as if rebelling against the surrounding darkness, always emanating warmth.

Anyway, like magic, this would be the only time you would be able to see that little old lady you may have always imagined. Just for a moment, she would be there. Sitting in her favourite chair, sleeping, her knitting resting on her lap, dozing off a little. Before she would do it all again the day after.

About the author

Mary Contrary just knows. Or maybe she has no idea. Who knows? In any case, she likes to think about life and see it from different perspectives. Being a little contrary has never hurt anyone, she says. Mary lives in a beautiful country, with her dog and lovely acquaintances around her, and together they enjoy watching the bat show at dusk with a glass of sherry.

Image courtesy of Pexels, Beyzaa Yurtkuran