« Greta, you’re too thin, » she would say whenever I visited. « Sit down. I have soup. »
« I came to bring you groceries, » I would remind her.
« And I am trying to keep you alive, » she would reply.
As she grew older, I began returning the kindness she had shown me. I brought groceries, cleaned the rooms she struggled to manage, took out her trash, and checked on her several times a week.
Dorothy hated admitting that she needed help.
« I can still carry my own laundry, » she insisted one afternoon as I took the basket from her hands.
« You nearly tripped over the rug last week. »
« That rug has always had a personal grudge against me. »
« Then let me protect you from it. »
She gave me a look of exaggerated annoyance, but I saw the gratitude behind it.
