Dylan sat by Glenda’s bed, holding her frail hand. He double-checked her IV line to make sure morphine was flowing properly from the suspended bag, through the tube, and into her vein. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 4:45 a.m.
He stared into Glenda’s sunken eyes and said, “I love you, Mom.”
“I know, Son. I love you too,” she said quietly. “I’m so proud of you kids for deciding to keep the farm.”
“We’re proud of you, too, Mom. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of things.”
She squeezed Dylan’s hand and said, “Call Kenny Lebsack at the bank tomorrow. He has some paperwork for you.”
“I’ll call him tomorrow, Mom.”
Glenda smiled and said, “You were always so different. My most precious memory. Be good to the ones you love, Son. They’re all you have.” Then she closed her eyes, and she was gone.
Dylan hung his head and wept silently. At sunrise, he rose from his chair and headed out of the room to awaken Jerry and Katie. They would have to be strong for each other.
