Glints from the sunlight

Last night I looked in on my mom at 11 p.m., then at 1 a.m. and again at 5 a.m.; both times she needed some pain meds. The good news (I guess) is that she hadn't needed them from 9 p.m. until 1 a.m., and that she didn't need them again between 5 and 10 a.m. She only wanted half a piece of toast for breakfast, and two cups of tea. I made her Morning Thunder, extra strong, with milk in it, and I think the caffeine contributed to her having a pretty alert hour and a half before she went back to bed. I managed to give her a foot rub with lavendar-scented coconut oil. For some reason, the cancer is making her skin extremely dry, and foot rubs and back rubs make her feel a lot better. This morning at 5, when I gave her the pain meds and a hug before we went back to sleep, I said "See you when the sun comes up, Mom." It was a way to get her oriented to the time of day, since she's often confused about that. She gave me a peck and a smile and said, "OK. See you in the sunlight." I feel an urge to write down everything she says and save it up. It's like when I was a kid, wading in the streambeds that run though the hills of our town. I'd see micah glinting in the sand beneath the water and want to pick up every shining piece.