comfort itself.
She slept in short stretches on the couch, waking every hour to check timers or stir a pot. I begged her to rest. She waved me off.
“I’m okay,” she said. And she was. Tired, yes. But proud.
I watched her work and felt something swell in my chest. Not just pride, but admiration. She was doing something generous, something demanding, simply continue reading …
