Else

It is what she does. She suns, she naps, she sits looking out of whatever is in front of her. Her vista becomes what is in front of her. Like an elder woman confined to a front porch, she awaits her meals that are brought to her, and needs some help to get up each day. But all and all, I believe she is still content, for now. One day at a time.

As she fades, she is the first I look for her each morning when I open the barn door.