Things change quickly. My sister, whose overall prognosis remains the same, is feeling better. And just like that my irritation with her little ways returned. I have to put it in context, remind myself how very small and inconsequential her little preferences are to me.

I’m not saying this well. What it is is that I have to remind myself of how little I will remember her idiosyncrasies when she is gone. That bald fact is always just beneath the surface, waiting to remind me, waiting to be pulled up like a sheet of despair over every conversation, every note of hope.

It is teaching me patience. Patience to appreciate the moment, and just let that be what it is about. Just that moment.