The things I do not do:  (Cross them out with an X!)

I do not leave things on the floor.

I try not to remind her that she has moved past the years when she can pick up things from the floor herself.  How demoralizing that must feel.

I do not let her in on the secret that she’s read the same headline to me four times already.  Or told me the same story more times then I can count.  It’s easy to act interested every time and mostly, I am.

I do not dwell.  I try not to let her dwell.

I do dwell, in her happy memories of her past.

I wish I did not let her read the paper.

I do not leave her alone.

I do not smother her and make her feel like a burden.

I do not let her call herself a “dumbbell” but on that she’s pretty stubborn.

I do not remember the fork, or the spoon, every meal.  She always has to ask and generously forgets that I always make this mistake.

I do not rush her.  She has such little time left, she can spend it how she wants.

I do not take her for granted.

I do not serve her tepid coffee.

I do not speak to her unless I am facing her.

I don’t keep my house clean.

I don’t really keep her house clean, only the parts she sees.

I don’t miss an opportunity to bring a harvest in from the garden and show it to her.

I don’t stop looking for warning signs.  Even still, I never know how that day will go.

And someday, I don’t know what I’m going to do…