She sleeps, still. Still, except for the slightest twitch in her foot. Still, as she has done so much of over the past seven months.  

HK and I have spent the better part of the past 3 seasons with my parents here in Naples, Fl. Much of that time I spend sitting in the chair adjacent to Mom;s hospital bed that we set up in the living room. We felt it was important to keep her in the open, airy room where we spend most of our time. When she is awake and alert, she can look out the sliding glass doors to the lanai, which has been filled with dozens of blooming orchids. She loves orchids. 

She hasn’t been able to leave her bed for several months, as she has become too fragile. 

When hospice stepped-in last May, we didn’t think we had much time left with Mom. A month or two, we assumed. The “average”, we were told by the nurses, is six months. She has defied   that statistic already. But not without cost. We’ve had a couple of close-calls and traumatic events.

And tears. 

Many, many tears.

Tomorrow we will put up the Christmas tree. Christmas is a month and a half away, but we want to make sure she experiences the holiday while she is still with us. But instead of in the dining room, it will go on the lanai this year.

As I participate in the daily tasks that go with keeping her comfortable, I imagine the Mother that loved long walks on the beach, shopping, and completing the daily crossword puzzles in the NYTimes.  

When she smiles, I believe Mom is remembering those things, too. And when she sleeps once again, I hope that twitching foot is enjoying a long walk on the beach.