"Goodbye," she had said, eyes lit by the curiosity and uncertainty that pulled her always into new things. "I'll see you soon!" She had smiled fondly at her elder, this almost-grandmother, who listened at her little hurts, her frustrations, her joys, her stories of family. Who could, herself, no longer move as well as she once had, whose hands were curled by arthritis, who, nonetheless, loved to hear whatever the youngling wished to tell her. Who would tell her, again and again, that she could do better when she failed to believe it of herself.

It was only supposed to have been a few short weeks.

She could shut her eyes and the elder would be before her, as she no longer filled these empty rooms. If she listened carefully, she felt she could still hear her voice. All those gentle reminders, conversations, memories.

She had never meant for it actually to be "goodbye."