Samois sur Siene, France
My sister singing “Yankee Doodle” with her son. Then they read from a new set of illustrated Little House on the Prairie books. He is sitting next to her as she lays on her back in the hospital bed. He is rapt. When she pauses he points at Laura Ingalls and asks, “What? What is she doing?!”

She has been up on her feet more than I expected. We walked down to the Seine and watched the ducks and swans.  After climbing the stairs several times today, helping hang the wash, preparing dinner with me and orienting me to the bath routine she is now on her feet quite a bit. But she can't hold her baby. Walking  and moving around will build her strength. By seven pm she’s exhausted. Jiggy marches around blowing his wooden whistle. She rubs a leaf as dark and soft as a baby elephant’s, which Jiggy stuffed in his pack. As she rubs it, she recites

Tea by Wallace Stevens

When the elephants ear in the park shriveled in frost,

And the leaves on the paths ran like rats

Your lamplight fell on shining pillows of seashades and sky shades,

Like umbrellas in Java