Page 37 - Self Talk

Swallowing hard, I kicked off my shoes and climbed on the bed taking care to sidestep her slight form under the blanket. I installed the mobile with a thumbtack on the ceiling directly over her head. Even though the room felt airless, it spun and fluttered and glinted in the afternoon sunlight. Susan's old smile momentarily returned.
“It's an organic Calder! You must have remembered when we saw his work at the Walker Art Center,” she recalled.
I hadn't remembered but I wouldn't forget now.
The call came two weeks later. I recognized Margaret's voice immediately. Susan had died early that morning in her sleep. Margaret said it was a quiet and peaceful passing. And that the last thing Susan said the night before was how much she loved the mobile, spinning and fluttering above her bed.