A small room behind a bay window. A single bed, a table and chair, and a sink. I could manage something larger, with more conveniences, but I could never match the view.

The sun is only now just high enough to light my mother's drawing: a birdhouse she made when she was nine and I framed years later.

The bird has faded over the years (she approached it "lightly -- too lightly"), but the light does what it can to return it to us.