We sat in the living room. Jamie played with her dolls. I read my book.
“How old are you, Grandma?”
I looked up from the novel. The Shetland Islands could wait.
“What? What did you say, Jamie?”
Barbie and Ken danced on my knees. “The dolls want to know how old you are.”
“Well, let’s see. I’m not as old as that tree out there in the yard. But I am older than Buster.”
Buster the dog looked up when I said his name. He wagged his tail, hoping for a walk, or a treat.
“How old am I Grandma?” Barbie and Ken danced across Buster’s back. Buster was a patient dog.
“Now Jamie, you know you are four years old. We just had your birthday party. Remember? You had a party, you had presents. Barbie and Ken were two of your presents.”
Jamie climbed up on my lap. She gave me hug. Her thin body snuggled against mine.
“I love you, Grandma.”
“And I love you, Jamie.”
I stroked her hair. Her little heart beat so fast, each beat taking her closer to her end.
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