Holding my arm tightly we walked ten paces on the path she use to walk two hundred paces or more.
Slowly.
With great effort.
The last days of summer call her, and she cannot deny the desire to breath in the changing of the air.
I watched carefully, every step she took, as if we were about to fall off a great cliff. Would I be able to catch her?
Twelve paces into her walk she said we better turn around.
She entered her home, and sat down, "Corey I am a vegetable. I can do nothing. I cannot give you nearly as much as you give me." She cast her eyes down in a sadness that stabbed me.
I took her hands in mine, those beautiful hands… "Annie you are my rock, my beautiful friend, the person who knows my secrets and my heart. You give me more in your presence than I could ever give you in the little things I do."
She smiled that smile that I hope will never end, "Thank you." Then she closed her eyes and fell asleep briefly.
When she woke, she sighed, "All I do is sleep." Do you think something is wrong with that?"
I kissed her cheek, "No. Unless it hurts. I think it is a new journey."
She nodded.
A path where children do not run, where memories sing softly, where even with your eyes closed you somehow know the way.
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