“You sit with me and listen to me and cry with me. It’s all there is. It’s love.”

I think, like I have a million times, how Charlene is going through every mother’s worst fear. It scares me and I am reminded of my blessings each time.

“Sometimes I think God wanted Luke to be with Him. That thought comforts.” Her eyes are on mine as though waiting for an answer or a question. Then she continues. “People say to me, Too bad he didn’t get to live his full life. You know, marry Jenny, maybe have children together, grow old together. All that. But now I wonder why we insist that a full life lasts eighty years and anything less is a cheat. That was his life. Those twenty-seven years. It was his full life.”

“I’ve never thought of it like that. Time doesn’t make a full life. Living your life to the fullest makes it full.” I drink the tea. “You remember Doobie?”

“That fat gray cat?”

“Yeah. She lived twenty-two years. A long life for a cat. But all she did was sleep. In the winter she moved from one register to another. She had twenty years of sleeping and two years of living.” I shrug. “But, hey, that’s what she wanted to do. Who’s to judge?”

The piece of cake still rests on her fork, still in her hand, and she eats it. “At least I can sleep. And work is a relief. And making those cookies.” She laughs. “Even though it took all yesterday.” Then she stops and shakes her head and places her hand on mine. “I’m so glad I have you.” Her eyes are slightly moist.

I squeeze her hand. “Me, too. We’re like soul friends or something through the years. You get a few of them. You, Allie, Juliet, Tracy. People who are there and I can tell everything, anything to.”

The man crinkles his newspaper closed and walks past us. His movement reminds me of the day ahead. “Hey. We better get the flowers,” I say. “Almost forgot them.” On the way out of the store, Charlene retrieves the book and buys it.

At Fresh Seasons, a clerk wheels a cart of roses and jams them in buckets of water. Carnations, irises, baby’s breath, sprays of holly, ginger flowers stand in buckets of water on the floor. I pull out a ginger flower and sprays of miniature red roses and white carnations. I buy an additional bottle of Chardonnay. The cashier wraps the flowers in green paper and ties them with raffia after tucking in an envelope of Floralife.