Oh, how beautiful, these blooms from God! See now, here’s some water for you. Drink, drink your fill, you’ve been hardened enough. Ella dusts the strong stalks. What healthy, strong blooms! It’s a joy to look at them. And all of them as if measured – all the same size.

She had to raise her son with the intervention of the regional party committee. In the beginning all went smoothly – they built this grand house together. But her daughter-in-law could not abide Ella’s dictums. But, in Ella’s opinion, she was generally not quite right. It turned out that the house had been built in her son’s name. Ella, seeking justice and restitution in court demanded that her son sign over half of the house to his father and mother. The woman judge stared rather oddly at her. But was it not only just? Ella persisted. Their son did sign it over and erected a wall in the middle of the house. How did he dare do that? Ella collected evidence that the son had obtained building materials illegally, and brought it to the attention of the regional party committee. There too she was treated oddly. She doesn’t to this day know how it all ended, because the son no longer talks to her. But she had not wanted to do harm; she had just wanted justice.

But see here, what this brave soul has done now. It has put forth all of six blooms. Four have already sprung open, two are still in bud. It should be staked, for they could be too heavy for the stalk, and might well break it, and what’s to be done then. Just take pictures of them for a magazine cover.

Francis grunts, making some odd sounds. Probably there will be a poo. Ella still hasn’t got around to doing the breakfast dishes. She again has to climb upstairs. Those devilish spiral stairs!

Francis smiles. Phooey – what a cake he has dropped. But thank God for that.

“Attaboy,” Ella says as she wipes his bum. Then she removes the large pillows and settles Francis in to sleep. She already knows that she will have to wake Francis for lunch; otherwise, he will sleep through until the next morning.

But see how he looks on the white pillows. Soon he’ll be a goner. In the night table drawer beside Francis’ bed, she has already hidden a handkerchief to tie up his jaw. She has never seen anyone die, but remembers that in the country they immediately tied up her old uncle’s jaw, so that it would not hang loose in the coffin.

She will bear her own cross, no matter how great. But God too is not a small child. When Francis dies, they all will come – the children, the children’s children, yes, she even has a great granddaughter apparently, whom she has never seen. She wants to have a good talk with everyone. After all, she is the one who has the house. There will probably be many who will want it, but she will divvy it up fairly.