Shae Cooke
The Gift of a Moment
"Lord, help her" I prayed as I walked into the dark bedroom. She sat with her feeble body slumped in the rocking chair. Her pale face tilted to one side. Mother's slightly parted, chalky lips dribbled saliva. Her body, once lithe and agile, was now frail and thin, even against the delicate detail of the chair. I wiped her face and she smiled. Slipping...