Outside the window
It’s a beautiful summer morning. A reminder of painful memories, yet something I cannot bring myself to despise. I was up even before Stephen had come to wake me. He could sense my excitement. He helped me clean up before getting me settled in my wheelchair. Stephen has been my nurse for the last twenty years. He is dark and hefty. His well chiseled body is an artwork of tattoos, each one with a story of his life. On other days, we would sit near the fireplace and Stephen would narrate the significance of his myriad tattoos. But today he knew better. He wheeled me to the big glass window at the farther end of the room facing the roadside. He positioned the chair such that the sunlight was just enough to warm my feet and not too glaring to block my view outside the window. “It’s such a beautiful day!” Jane had exclaimed that day twenty years ago. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever known. A delicate frame, slender fingers, wide eyes and an infectious smile, she was what I ...