November 3

I'm in her room, sitting close. She's sleeping. I can't awaken her. She's breathing steady, nice breaths.

The curtains are closed on a bright afternoon sun. The clock on her wall hasn't been set to the right time yet.

I think how that doesn't matter. Time is not counted where she is in her sleep, and it won't be counted where she is going when she takes her last breath.

I want to be in this room when that happens. I want to be sitting near her.

And tell her how very much I love her.