As I gaze out the window of my great aunt’s house, I see two ladies, both as grim as night. They rock back and forth in their snow white rocking chairs. They knit their light pink scarves. As the wind blows, their teeth chatter. They slowly walk inside, their backs bent, their hands closed around a cane. Their thin hands pull the covers over their shivering bodies. And they fall into a deep, deep sleep.