Small Expectations

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I’ve grown to dislike those Facebook Memories that pop up first thing every morning. The old photo posts of Jack and I out dancing, or on a road trip, or hiking in one exotic location or another.  Each memory forces me to see the glaring evidence of Jack’s decline, provides irrefutable proof that my expectations sink lower each day. And the bar MUST be lowered constantly.  Jack’s physical and mental abilities deteriorate, mostly slowly, occasionally like a giant leap from a cliff, freefallin...