This one just sort of happened....

Provided that I don't fall victim to this illness, I would love to experience the freedom of that day. Once, when I had thought better of it, I decided not to attend that event, thus limiting myself to my room. He was grateful for my decision, experiencing the event for himself without my assistance. If I were to tell him before I did, however, he would have resented the communication and found a way to undermine me. don't worry though, I timed it precisely so as not to create any conflict in my relationship with him. Rather, I feel we are now stronger due to my judgement. When he returned, he spoke of how wonderful it all was. He described each crevice, each sound, smell, sight. He smiled, laughed, gestured to the wide scope of the event. his eyes glistened with joy and childhood. Then as his dramatic telling of the even t grew to a close, he placed a small trinket in my hand. It was smooth and beautiful and I cupped it between my fingers. It was a small porcelain tea cup, white with blue designs across its sides. He explained to me it had arrived from china, specifically for the event. He knew I didn't like Chinese products, but also like me, he saw the pure beauty in the small tea cup. His dramatic recalling of the vendor he had bought from made me smile and as he hobbled around, mimicking the old, frail woman, I couldn't help but laugh. Having received his precious gift, both the tea cup and the story, I explained to him how I myself had a gift for him. His smile lit up with curiosity. Taking his hand in mine, I drew him into the kitchen and proudly displayed my creation. A beautifully crisp and deliciously browned apple pie sat on the stove, still warm from the oven. With a hearty laugh, he drew me close to his body in the way of a hug only he could give. He whispered happy words into my ear, making me giggle with joy. When finally he released me, I placed the small tea cup on the window seal above the oven and took the pie to the table. I used the knives he gave me for Christmas to slice the apple pie into small triangles. He got the two plates, two glasses of milk, and the forks, all with a genuine smile. With the soft vanilla ice cream melting on the warm pie, we ate together, sitting on the porch, watching the sun set. Gently he held my hand and spoke of all his dreams and ambitions. Once, when a long gentle silence lingered between us, he dropped his hand from mine and in his gentle, loving voice, informed me that he was leaving me. And that was the last time I saw him.