She was looking at the window.
She didn’t turn around when we came in. She just kept looking out at the cherry tree.
“Mom?” Catherine said softly.
“Is it still raining, honey?” The woman’s voice was a whisper. Soft and raspy. “I can’t tell. My eyes aren’t so good anymore.”
“It’s still raining, Mom.”
“The tree’s going to bloom soon. It always blooms in April. I hope I get to see it one more time.”
“Mom,” Catherine said. Her voice cracked. “There’s someone here to see you.”
The woman sighed.
“I don’t want any more doctors, Catherine. I’m so tired.”
“It’s not a doctor.”
Grandma stepped forward. She walked slowly around the end of the bed until she was standing between Ruth and the window.
“Hello, Ruth,” she said.
Ruth looked up at her.
For a long time, nothing happened. Ruth just stared, blinking slowly, like she was trying to see through fog.
