Fast forward thirty years to our most recent family reunion. Nora ignored the doctor's orders and made a brief appearance, maybe ten minutes, doting on the newest born and downing her signature Arnold Palmer. She summoned me to escort her out to the car. As I folded her into my uncle's Prius, she raised her bony palm to my chest and held it there. She said you've forgotten. My grandmother died the next morning.
What is it that you want?
Someone to listen while I try to remember how to breathe.