I’m sitting here in a chair my mom bought for me because she wanted me to be more comfortable in my long hours of resting, wearing the shrug she knitted for me, drinking tea she bought for me, reading a book she recommended.

She visited a few weeks ago with the sole purpose of stocking my refrigerator, cooking for me, and cleaning the house. One morning we were joking about something or other that involved saying “I love you” and she got serious for a moment and said, “You know, I don’t often say it, but I do love you.” And I pointed to the breakfast she’d made for me and the lunch she’d packed for me to take to work. “I know,” I said.