A married couple lived a long life together. Their four children lived good lives and became to all appearances happy and normal adults. The oldest boy was closest to his parents. Several times a week he would drop by to visit. Always he brought laughter with him.
As his parents grew older it became obvious that the woman's mind was failing, but it was the old man who died first. The son found himself spending his spare time with his mother, even after he got her into a care facility. She grew more distant but always kind.
The past was enclosing her. She spoke of long ago summer days spent working in the garden.
A doctor decided the woman needed hip surgery. It seemed a silly thing.
``Why not leave her alone?'' the son asked.
``She could live many years,'' the doctor said. The man's heart sank. His wife. His kids.
After the surgery he sat with his mother as she regained consciousness.
``Should I tell him?'' she said.
``What?''
``Should I tell him I can't stand him to touch me?''
``Who, mom?''
``Why dad of course! He makes my flesh creep!''
``Tell him?''
A nurse was adjusting the IV. ``Sure, hon,'' she said, ``you tell the sucker.''
The woman faded into sleep. That night the man kissed all his sleeping children, even the fifteen year old with the studded cheek. He held his wife close in his arms, treasuring each moment until he slept. But by morning their separate worlds had claimed them and they had drifted far apart in the big warm bed.