Every Friday, I go to the café around the corner to spend a little time with her. I order coffee and
her favorite pastries, then find a quiet spot in the back, far enough away from the crowd so that
no one can eavesdrop. Sometimes I tell her about a novel I think might interest her or recap the
previous night’s ballgame, but more often I reminisce about experiences I wish we could relive.
These weekly visits are so precious to me, and, even though she hasn’t said anything, I’d like to
believe she appreciates them too.