Tiny hope

I hear the weakness in his voice over the phone, but there is also a slight chuckle. He enjoys being asked if he is breaking out of the joint.


Dad was on his way to the kitchen to get some nourishment. That would be some hot chocolate, maybe a bowl of very mashed potatoes and some pudding.

It's not a steak dinner, but it's stuff that can make the journey down the esophagus without getting stopped up.

He asked how the weather was over my way. That's a good sign.

It's the tiny things that give me hope.