This time, I drove.
She was feeling much stronger, eating regularly, and following her doctor’s advice.
She even complained about my driving during the first hour.
I considered that an encouraging sign.
When we arrived, Ellen welcomed us at the door.
Margaret was sitting in a comfortable chair beside a window.
A knitted blanket rested across her lap.
She looked smaller and more fragile than the woman I remembered.
But when she saw me, her face brightened.
“Laura?”
I nodded.
She held out her arms.
I crossed the room and hugged her.
And suddenly, I recognized a familiar scent.
Vanilla.
She was wearing the same gentle perfume I’d remembered from childhood.
“My goodness,” she whispered. “Look how you’ve grown.”
I laughed through tears.
“You used to let me eat the leftover pie dough.”
Margaret smiled.
“You didn’t exactly wait for permission.”
We both laughed.
Mom sat beside her and took her hand.
Margaret studied her face.
