text: Dorothy Aubrey Murphy was 83 years old and frail. Everyone that knew her called her Dot and no one that knew her would have called her frail to her face. She could flash those blue eyes and melt a person. Once a man came in the salvage yard office with pistol and told her to hand over the money. She snapped those blue eyes and told him if he put the pistol in his pocket and got his ass off the property she wouldn't call the cops. He did and she didn't. George was so mad at her over that. Dot shifted in the uncomfortable chair, she and George were alone in the near dark room. George was motionless in the bed as the little lights blinked off and on. George was dying and it was Christmas Eve. First it had been the Alzheimer's that had robbed them of each other and George even of himself. Then three days ago came the stroke. They had told her there was nothing they could do. She cried for a bit and then said she wanted to stay with him on Christmas Eve. Dot took a large prescription pill bottle out of her purse and a small bottle of water, it was time for her medicine. They had spent a lot of Christmases together, her and George, they had been married 64 years. It was on Christmas Eve when George was 16 and she was 15 that he told her he had gotten a job at the salvage yard. He was so proud, and told her the world had turned. She began taking the pills. She had never heard that expression and asked him what it meant. It's what Grandma says he explained, when someone is born or dies, whenever something happens good or bad Grandma always says the world has turned. George lived with his Grandma. His father was a hopeless alcoholic, his mother had killed herself years ago. Only a few years later they were married. Thing weren't always easy though, it was tough when they bought the salvage yard. Money was so tight, stress and work took it's toll. George worked sixteen hour days most of the time. He was always so driven. The worst time though was after that, when they had money. Not long after they bought the third salvage yard. She took the last pill. More than twenty years ago she found that George was sending money to an address in town. She said nothing and waited. Then she saw again money sent to the same address on East Ninth Street. She confronted him and he denied knowing anything. She was infuriated and they had a huge fight. That was a Wednesday, they fought about it again on Thursday. Friday they were not speaking and she seriously considered leaving him. Christmas was on Sunday that year, on Saturday, Christmas Eve, George said let's go to the address on East Ninth I want you to see. She what she snapped your other woman? So on Christmas Eve she had gone with him to the squat brick building. It was five stories, old and run down with a single stairway. Dot banged on the door. A small Hispanic boy, maybe 8 or 9 opened it and gave them a big smile. There was no resemblance. A woman also Hispanic appeared at the door and a man. George stepped in front of her and said we are so sorry to bother you and introduced them both. Please he said I just want my wife to see where I lived as a boy. You lived here asked the man, looking at their good clothes. Yes, said George, in this apartment. When they were back in the car George said we lived here four years before I went to live with Grandma. His teeth were clenched tight. It was bad and there was no one to care, he said. I swore to myself if there was ever a time I could, then I would be the one that cared. No one would have to live there like I did. I don't know them, they don't know me, I send the money in cash. I don't even care what they do with it, I just know I did my part to make it better. Why didn't you tell me? she blurted. I didn't want anyone to know, I did it for me, for the little boy that used to be me. She was beginning to feel queasy. The darkness swirled a little and she straightened herself in the chair. That was both the worst and best Christmas they ever had. George continued to send money but in time the building was abandoned and eventually torn down. Later the city had bought the property and built a 32 unit low income housing facility. Her legs felt like they were going to sleep, this is an awful chair she thought. After George had been lost to Alzheimer's, Dot had driven by the low income housing a couple of times by pure chance. She made the arrangements soon after that. The attorney tried to talk her out of it, Dot snapped those blue eyes and told him it was her money. All the papers were drawn up and signed. George and Dot had sold the three salvage yards and they had a good bit of cash. Even after all George's medical bills the attorney said there was money for at least 25 years. Beginning this year on December 15th every tenant received 500 dollars, and each year on December 15th until the money ran out. In addition each tenant would receive every month 250 dollars until all the money was gone. Dot made sure the money was sent in cash and no one was to ever know where it came from. Over on East Ninth, Amanda turned down the heat and was ready for bed. She made sure Isabella was sleeping. Isabella was twelve and as sweet as any girl ever. Amanda crept to the broom closet and reaching above the furnace brought down a box wrapped in cheap Christmas paper. It was a laptop computer. When the money came Amanda hid it in her room and didn't tell a soul. Sometimes when you have been down so long, something good happens and it scares you that it could be taken away. She bought the computer the next day. Amanda knew with it Isabella's whole world would be opened. She would use it too, but Isabella she could escape Ninth Street. Amanda set the package beneath the small artificial tree. When the little lights on the machines quit blinking the staff scrambled down to George's room, even though there was a firm DNR order. They found George dead lying just as he had been the last three days. Dot was in the uncomfortable chair. The empty prescription pill bottle had clinked on the floor and rolled to the edge of the bed. Dot's blue eyes were open and blank, fixed on George. On her lap was a piece of wrapping paper, red with green candy canes. On the back of the paper she had written, The world has turned. Below that she wrote, It is up to us to turn it. None of them knew quite what to make of that.