Savory

The smell of summer savory drifted up as the wheel chair drove over some of the long fragrant stems that had tumbled out of the pot and onto the sidewalk. 
“You could freeze that now,” Mom said.  “It’ll make good soup in the winter.”


We brought her home for an hour Friday evening.  The air had cooled to a wonderfully warm temperature, and the grandchildren were lively on the front lawn, bringing laughter to her face. 


She was grasping for
the children that kept running by.

Like butterflies ... fluttering close but not daring to alight. 

Finally they did – both of them. 
For a moment, a hug, she was grandma again,
though the cancer insisted on creating a new Thing that must be reckoned with, pushed aside.