I didn’t think much of it then.
Now, watching her struggle to walk beside me, I wished I’d asked more questions.
When we reached my car, I lifted the black suitcase into the trunk.
It felt much heavier than an ordinary week’s worth of clothing.
“What’s inside this thing?” I asked lightly.
“Oh, just a few things Margaret wanted me to bring home.”
She didn’t elaborate.
During the drive, Mom leaned against the window and barely spoke.
I kept glancing at her.
She closed her eyes several times and seemed to be struggling to stay awake.
When we arrived home, she insisted on taking the suitcase upstairs herself.
But after only two
steps, she stopped to catch her breath.
“Mom, please let me carry that.”
She reluctantly agreed.
“Just put it in my bedroom.”
I carried it upstairs and placed it beside her dresser.
Mom followed me inside.
Then, as soon as I stepped into the hallway, she closed the door.
