Iris
Finally, after six weeks of recovery, of being monitored, and of physical therapy to ensure her heart is healthy, my mother has been discharged from the hospital.
“You don’t have to fuss over me like this,” she says as I adjust her pillows for the third time in as many minutes. She’s propped up on the sofa in her favorite room, the sunroom, with a tray of her favorite tea and a veritable mountain of fruit and pastries that the housekeeper insisted on making for her return. “I’m not an invalid.”
“The doctors said to take it easy for at least another week,” I remind her. “And Dad made me promise I wouldn’t let you overexert yourself while he’s at work.”
My mother rolls her eyes, but there’s no real heat in it. “Your father has always been a worrier.”
I settle into th
