That evening we had dinner together: baked potatoes, steamed vegetables, and a small dish of applesauce Marian had requested.

The conversation drifted through ordinary things.

Derek’s new job.

A leak in the shed roof.

A neighbor’s dog that had learned to open the garden gate.

Every now and then Marian closed her eyes for a moment when fatigue caught up with her, and nobody demanded that she keep up the conversation.

After dinner, Lucas took the plates away and I accompanied Mom to her room.

She paused beside the door, studying the bed and the lamp, the little blue cup and the book resting open on her bedside table.