“Are you coming today?”

Grammy’s voice was frail, though she tried to make the question sound casual.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes.”

She waited until the words appeared on her phone.

“Where are we going today?”

“It’s a surprise. We’ll be there at eleven.”

~

An hour later, we were at the beach.

December sun warmed Grammy’s face as we rolled her across the sand in a PVC wheelchair with oversized foam wheels.

Waves crashed beside her.

Birds passed overhead.

Her two great-grandsons tumbled through the surf.

“I haven’t been here in a very long time.”

Dani looked across the beach.

“I don’t suppose so.”

Grammy looked down at the chair.

“Why don’t you just take me home? Then come see me after. I don’t want to be late for my meal, and you don’t need me here.”

Dani started to answer, then stopped when Grammy cupped her hand to her ear.

She pulled out her phone and typed in the largest letters she could.

“I love you, Grammy. We came to Florida to visit YOU. We’re not going anywhere without you.”

Grammy read it.

She said nothing.

Her shoulders lowered.

Dani put a hat on her head and handed her a glass of water.

Grammy drank.

Then she looked toward the water.

The boys ran in and out of the waves, collecting shells and bringing them back to show her.

Grammy slowly turned her chair to follow them.

~

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

Grammy brushed sand from her pants as we dropped her off at the facility that night.

It was well past meal service.

The sky was dark.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”