I don’t want to turn the story into a miracle that didn’t happen.
But it continued to reduce, with medical support and with its own efforts.
The most important thing for me was that her grandchildren were no longer exposed in the house.
And something had changed between us.
We were no longer two women fighting for authority.
We were two women who had learned, very late, to listen.
One night, almost a year later, I found Martha in the kitchen.
She was sitting on her old chair.
The red mug was in front of her.
The window was open.
But there was no cigarette.
What are you thinking? I asked.
-
To Harold.
-
Are you missing?
-
Every day.
I sat next to her.
Martha took out of her pocket a transparent tube and stretched it out of my pocket.
- What is it?
The last question Jack wrote to me.
I unwrapped the paper.
