My best and only son Steve came, only this time he did not bring stuff to eat.
Chorita had put stuff on the table that caught his eye and he “dived” into it.
He ate with the appetite I used to have – everything in sight (I kept my hands out of reach.)
He left in about an hour. We banged knuckles on his way out.
“Take care,” I said.
As usual, he went into the bedroom and picked up my writing and left.
He’s a busy man.
When he leaves I think I’ll take a nap.
That’s what old people do.
(September 29, 2022)