The daughter, sitting a little behind her worried mother, laid her jaw on her mother’s shoulder. I suddenly saw that their skin, sticky in the hot air (the ceiling fans are never really able to cool it), bonded in a lovely way. Braided hair, silver earrings set in delicate ears - all of this added to the beauty of the scene. Softly, softly, the daughter whispered words of love into her mother’s ear. I know this; I saw it in her mother’s tender gaze.
Then, her head resting completely on her lovely mother’s shoulder, the daughter closed her eyes. In a voice gentle as honey in warm milk, the younger woman intoned a prayer to which the mother, eyes filled with tears, replied as if reflexively. To lose a foot is not the end of the world, but grief is still grief when the future is uncertain.
Suddenly, the daughter’s left arm encircled the hunched shoulders of the older woman. At this moment, it was clear they were mother and daughter – you could see it in the way they moved their fingers. Like pianists bereft of their musical notes. The fingers of the younger caressing the nape of the older woman’s neck. “It’s reassuring,” I remember saying to them, “to see such beauty …”
It was time for us - me and the daughter - to leave. The doctor arrived, just like the tears in her eyes …
Good luck, to all those who wake up one morning and must re-learn how to move in and with a body that is different.

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