10/14/10: Way to shame me into updating again by commenting, people who comment! (Seriously, though, hi, welcome, and pull up one of the splintery old orange crates that we use for seating 'round these parts seein' as we can't afford no fancy chairs.)

The rules from
here still apply.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007


"It just doesn't seem fair," Katie said quietly. She glanced at their father, sitting by the window in the wheelchair one of the nurses had fetched for him. "This must be so humiliating for him, to wind up in a place like this."

Dean nodded. "He and I actually talked about it some earlier, while you were parking the car." Then, as she looked at him in surprise, "We didn't say much, really. I told him we were sorry about all this. He told me he was too."

Tears loomed in Katie's eyes. "He's just so helpless sometimes," she said in a choked voice. "He was always so strong, and now sometimes he can't even remember where the bathroom is in his own damn house."

"I know, Kay-kay, I know." Dean wrapped his sister in a hug, trying to comfort her, feeling her tears begin to wet his shoulder as he continued. "He knows too. He can't always take care of himself these days, and he said he hates it, but that..." He swallowed. "That he knows it's time for this. For someone else to take care of him. Someone who knows how."

Katie looked over at their father again, still sitting by the window. The slump of his shoulders matched her own. "God, aging sucks," she whispered.

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