“Exactly.”
Her answer hurt because it was true.
“You have spent years looking after me,” she continued. “But sometimes your help makes me feel as though I have nothing left to offer. I wanted to prove I could still do something for someone else.”How-To, DIY & Expert Content
I had always believed kindness meant protecting Dorothy from every difficulty. I had never considered that constant protection might make her feel helpless.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“So am I,” she replied. “I should have trusted you.”
Alex cleared his throat.
“The messages were my fault. I thought short replies would stop you from worrying.”
“They made me worry more.”
“I know that now.”
A week later, Dorothy sat beside her front window with her ankle wrapped while Alex and I loaded boxes into our cars.
That afternoon, we delivered supplies to twelve homes.
Dorothy directed everything from her living room like a general.Roommates & Shares
“Greta, Mrs. Bell needs the soft bread,” she called. “Alex, don’t give the blue blanket to Mr. Jenkins. He hates blue.”
Alex leaned toward me.
