She thought for a moment. Then she pointed at her front yard. “Can you rake the leaves?” “Is that your wish?” “Nope. Just something you could do while I’m getting our dinner ready.” I raked the leaves into a heap by the hedge, to stop the wind from blowing it apart. After dinner, I washed up the dishes. I spent the night in Hazel’s spare bedroom. It wasn’t that she didn’t want help. She let me help. I ran errands for her, picked up art supplies and groceries. On days she had been painting for a long time, she let me rub her neck and shoulders. I have good, firm hands.
