Lillian works full-time in food prep, fingers and toes in arthritic twists. Her face pale and drawn, feet afire with gout.
“You need a cane,” I urge. And so much more...
She gives an ‘as-if’ sort of shrug.
“Hold on a sec,” I advise. Return post-haste with my mom’s walnut cane. Here, I conclude, is one worthy heir.