She fell again this morning, trying to get out of bed to do something, or to make something: tea, perhaps, or a small meal. She’s fine, I’m told, in spite of her tumble. Her day nurse handles her well. She’s gotten so thin, and so quiet, and ...

The first thing she shows me is her statue of the Blessed Mother, brought all the way from Jersey to stand in a corner of the yard, paler than Colorado snow. That statue just never gets dirty. She can see it from her new bedroom window, two thousand...