She sat on the edge of her bed, swaddled in her peacock colored blanket. This blanket had become a shield for her against the cold and the fear. The sight of her made me giggle...a cross between a most revered Buddhist monk and someone's mountain granny. I seized the change to pull her in for a hug. No resistance...never has been. She rested her sweet, bald head under my chin. I kissed the top of it and felt the prickle of new hair.
"Thank you for being here, sweetheart. I love you so much," said she.
"It's like I told your son when I married him...his people are my people and I wasn't joking. I hate that you have to be here. I hate that I have to be here because you have to be here. But there's no place I'd rather be," said I.