Resting

Today when I found my mom walking the halls, she surprised me by saying that she wanted to rest on the bed for a little while. Once in bed she spoke almost nonstop about everything from the flowers on the screen that divides the room to whether or not her dad liked his kids very much. None of it was completely coherent, but I got the gist, and then my ears perked up when she said, "I don't think we'll make it to 18." Eighteen again! When I asked her what we wouldn't make it to, 18 what, she'd already moved on and didn't know what I was asking.