In their own right, her parents, Michael and Teresa Harper, had been community leaders. For many years, they operated a small bakery where they served coffee, pastries, and warm bread to both locals and tourists. Despite everyone’s affection for the bakery, it never made enough money to save for retirement, much less pay for major bills. Her parents accrued large medical expenditures when they became unwell in their later years. They died, leaving Melanie with a mound of debt that she was forced to take on.

Nevertheless, she saw the family house as a place of refuge. The old house was situated between two equally modest houses on a street surrounded with trees. It included a dilapidated porch swing that creaked when she sat down on it after a long day at work, and a small front yard full of geraniums in bloom. She enjoyed sitting outside with her coffee, resting her sore feet, and watching the local children ride their bikes on warm days. Sometimes, all of her troubles seemed a little less heavy because of those little joys.

The sense of camaraderie in her peaceful neighborhood was one of the things Melanie loved most about it. Warm greetings were exchanged, along with questions about each other’s days and perhaps the offering of homemade sweets or extra food from their gardens. However, a little larger house on the same block was shared by four neighbors, sisters in their nineties. With the exception of going grocery shopping or pacing their yard in pleasant weather, they hardly ever left the house. She knew very little about their daily life, but she frequently observed them from a distance. Read More Below

Alice, Bernice, Connie, and Dorothy were all very old sisters. They had reportedly stayed close all of their lives, despite the fact that each had married, had children, and dealt with happiness and sorrow in various ways. As time went on, they found themselves living together. Maybe they felt more at ease living among someone they had known for a long time, or maybe it was loneliness. For whatever reason, they were happy with their routine: getting up early, caring for the little flower beds in their front yard, and going on quick walks while holding hands.

On mornings, Melanie would make her first cup of tea and observe them through her kitchen window. She observed how cautiously they went, how the others would pause and wait, and how one of them would pause to collect her breath. Every now and then they noticed Melanie observing and smiled softly.

Melanie returned home early from a shortened shift at the hospital one fall day. She saw the four sisters straining to carry heavy grocery bags from the trunk of a dilapidated automobile as she drove up the street. They had to walk a little to the front door because they parked on the curb instead of the driveway. The oldest, Alice, appeared as if she may give way beneath the weight of a particularly big bag of canned goods.

Melanie parked her car in her driveway, dropped her purse inside the house, and ran over in alarm. She gently removed one of the bulkier bags from Alice’s hands without asking permission. “Allow me to assist you with these,” she said in a worried tone. “They appear really heavy.”

The sisters looked surprised yet appreciative. Bernice, dressed simply in a floral dress and wearing supportive orthopaedic shoes, smiled hesitantly at Melanie. “Thank you, my love. We were unaware that our groceries would weigh that much.