Hummingbirds

From the wrought iron gables the oblong hummingbird feeder dangles shiny plastic, strawberry lip-gloss red. It sways above my grandmother’s head as she watches their vibrating wings. She rests at the kitchen sink, puts down her dishtowel, and smiles. I want to ask if she is tired of housewifely trials, but the cat leaps to the window, hissing, waking my grandmother from her reminiscing. She goes back to the dirty dishes, alone; silence is the new partner in her half-empty home.