The room was sparse but for some handpicked flowers from her garden and the Chihuahua's amenities. There was a crocheted blanket pulled up around her shoulders.
A quick rap at the door startled her out of her limbo like reverie about how life had mistreated her. A slight woman entered the room, too thin for her height, limp curls hung like dirty drapes around eyes encircled with the darkness of sleepless nights and worried days.
"Morning, Mother," she said, like she had every day since this has started. Her voice had gotten quieter as things had deteriorated. "How are you feeling?" She asked, looking around the room. A disapproving snort from the bed had tears shimmering in the visitor's eyes.
"Are my roses blooming?"
The question was impatient and and whistled off at the end, overtaken by wheezing.
"They should be blooming. You should have brought me some fresh flowers... Did you fertilize them like you were supposed to? You have to feed them every few months or they won't bloom as nice... I bet you didn't, or you didn't do it right. If you had then you would have brought me... flowers..." She wheezed off a huff of indignation, looking to the window for flowers outside.
"I'm sure they'll be blooming soon, Mother." The daughter replied softly. She fidgeted in her lap, eyes examining the blanket. "I think I skipped a stitch on the hem on the end her. I'll have to unravel it a bit to fix it, but I could bring my hooks tomorrow and fix it."
"The blanket's fine if not a little lopsided. Don't put yourself out on my account. Not like I'm going to be tossing it around my shoulders and running around naked outside."
"Is your mother so boring that you can't just sit with me for awhile? It's not like you have much longer to wait. You were always impatient. Ungrateful."
The daughter squeezed her eyes shut, wiping at the tears that escaped.
"I made you something." The hurt visitor said, opening a small box and placing it on the bed. "It's a dandelion crown, like you made me that one time."
She grunted with a glance in the box.
"It was a good memory." Her daughter whispered as she let herself out.