**FIVE FACETS OF TOMORROW**
«Well, at least our children will look after us in our old agethats why we had them. But you, Maisie, really are in a bind,» Nettie said with a mix of mockery and sympathy, pouring her another glass of white wine.
Five women lounged in beanbag chairs under parasols at a beachside bar in Brighton. The evening carried the scent of salt, pine, and a touch of melancholy.
When her friends invited Maisie to join them at the spa retreat, she wasnt sure what to expect. In her mind, «spa retreat» conjured images of something outdatedtrade unions, back pain, medicinal mud, and boredom. Maybe a bit of twilight flirting if she was lucky.
Instead, she found a modern hotel, delicious food, treatments, a spa, and a forest blanketed in emerald moss where she could wander for hours, listening to the whisper of pines and chasing sunbeams.
The sea, though shallow and cold, was still a joy. Stretching left and right from the beach were nudist zoneswomen to the left, men to the right.
The womens section amused them all. «Were not so bad ourselves, if you think about it!»
But the mens side that was a different kind of laughter.
«Good grief, look at that blokehes got less than my grandson!» Lottie exclaimed.
«And that short fellows gone the other wayburied to the hilt,» Tessa added.
«Cheers, ladies!» a male voice called back unexpectedly.
The women burst into laughter and hurried off, hiding their faces. Theyd forgottenBrighton wasnt exactly abroad.
After dinner, no one wanted to leavethe treatments had left them invigorated. Music played at the beach bar, the sun dipped into the sea, and conversation drifted toward the usual sore spotsliterally.
One complained of high blood pressure, another a sore arm, the third of sleepless nights. Then came the heavier topicsold age, the fear of loneliness, children with lives of their own.
Maisie tried to lighten the mood. «Honestly, with the way the worlds going, we might not even have to worry about getting old.»
But her friends were already deep in iteach sharing either horrors or hopes.
Then Diana perked up. «Remember when you lost me at the market the other day? I met an old woman selling unusual stones. Bought this crystal from her.» She pulled a green-blue faceted stone with a chipped top from her tote. «Said it shows the future.»
«Does what?» Nettie squinted.
«Shows it, supposedly. Her English was shaky, but she said, Five sessions left. And theres five of us. Why not try?»
They laughed but touched the crystal anyway.
**First vision: Nettie.**
By eighty, Nettie had been a widow for five years. She lived in her spacious flat, keeping spry despite fading eyesight.
Her daughter, a high-powered executive, was always busynever even had time for a family. She cared for her mother out of duty, not warmth.
One day, Nettie climbed a chair to fetch an old vase from the cupboarda gift for her daughter. She fell. No breaks, just bruises. Her daughter gasped and moved her in «for a few days.»
White kitchen, white walls, white misery.
Once, Nettie spilled tomato juice.
«Mum! Why must you meddle?!»
«Well,» Nettie forced a smile, «at least now the décor has a pop of colour. Felt a bit like a hospital before.»
The joke fell flat.
**Second vision: Diana.**
Diana raised her son aloneeverything for him, everything because of him.
He grew up, became a brilliant programmer, married a stern German woman, and funneled all his love toward her instead.
The daughter-in-law was steel-cold. The house, signed over «for tax purposes,» became hers.
Diana struggled to walk, her heart faltered, her breath came short. They cared for herbut with irritation.
«Mum, dont touch that! Mum, stay out of the way!»
She hid in her room, cried silently at night, smiled by morning.
One day, she called Nettie.
«I cant do this anymore.»
«Pack your things. Move in with me. Well manage.»
And they did.
One saw poorly, the other walked slowlybut together, they made it work.
They laughed at their weaknesses.
«Honestly, youve swept all the dust into the corners again.»
«But the middles spotless!»
Evenings were for chatter and debatespolitics, the future, technology, happiness. They disagreed often, but it never mattered.
Then theyd turn on the tellyNettie listened, Diana described.
«Sometimes I think,» Nettie mused, «its a blessing I cant see well. The worlds turned ugly.»
«Dont be daft,» Diana countered. «Were just relics. The world moves on.»
**Third vision: Lottie.**
Lottie had twin daughters. In her old age, one took her in, the other visited with grandchildren.
The house buzzed with noise, smelling of popcorn and baby shampoo.
«Gran, is it true you were born before the internet?» a curly-haired boy gasped. «Did you see mammoths?»
«Course,» Lottie laughed. «And sabre-toothed tigers!»
The boy hid under the table in mock terror.
Lottie ruffled his hair and thought, *This is happinesstiny curls and all.*
**Fourth vision: Maisie.**
Maisie, a doctor, spent most of her life alone. Two divorces, countless shifts, hundreds of patients. She worked and saved for old ageno one to rely on.
When her strength waned, she chose a care homemodern, cosy, with gardens and Wednesday dances.
And suddenly, she thrived.
Grocery trips, outings, bingo, new friends.
At a dance, a charming neighbour with a rollator asked,
«May I be your cha-cha partner?»
Maisie grinned. «Only if you keep up. Maybe start with something slower?»
**Fifth vision: Tessa.**
Tessa and her husband always dreamed of a seaside home. They bought onein a distant Asian country.
Now they had a little paradise: a local woman cooked, cleaned, helped.
Her husband had suffered a stroke, but evenings, Tessa wheeled him to the shore.
They sat, watched the sun sink into the ocean, and talkedor sat in comfortable silence.
«We made it just in time,» he whispered.
«We did,» she replied.
When the visions faded, the women sat quiet.
The sky turned violet, waves murmured secrets.
«Well then,» Tessa cleared her throat, «not so dreadful, is it?»
«Quite the opposite,» Diana smiled. «Almost human.»
«Even beautiful,» Nettie added. «Fewer bruises, though. Another toast?»
They laughed.
The waiter brought another bottle. The crystal on the table caught the sunsetdim but stubborn. It hadnt cracked or dimmed, just turned clearer.
«Let it be so,» Maisie said.
«Old age is still life,» Lottie mused, pouring more wine. «Just a different time of day.»
They clinked glasses, and the sea murmured its agreement.
*And so I learned: the future isnt something to fear. Its just another story waiting to be lived.*
