Spring arrived before Rachel was strong enough to walk the length of our backyard without resting.

The sunflowers she had planted the previous summer had left brown stalks by the fence.

I had been unable to bring myself to cut them down.

Every morning they reminded me of the days when I thought she would never stand beside them again.

She asked for gardening gloves on a Saturday.

I protested that the ground was still wet and she ought to rest.

Rachel gave me a look I knew from our marriage’s earliest days.