After installing my mother at the facility, we drove
home in shock. My father sat in the passenger seat scratching his unshaven chin and spoke about the threat of rain
in the cadence of a hypnotized weatherman. Our shock
doubled or, I suppose, quadrupled when we found her at
home in her white chair, looking out the picture window
as if nothing unusual had happened. The weather had
turned. The sky was as blue as her good eye.