she gives me...

 I ring her at 3 on a Friday afternoon and ask if she'd like a visit.  She can't hear what I'm saying at first so I say it louder.  Still she's unsure but when I hold the receiver close to my lips and repeat the question, she gets it.  And yes she'd like to see me! I gather up a few  things.  The blue book, photos of a friend's garden, a couple of cakes.

I wind down the driveway and park under the carport. I remember when her car used to be here. I let myself in and wait.
She's at the top of the landing, stick in one hand, plastic bag of bits and pieces in the other. I watch her coming sideways down the stairs, leaning against the wall, measuring each footstep, willing herself not to trip as she edges towards the slate floor.
The  living room where we sit is warm.  Two heaters taking the chill out of the air.  We make  tea in the kitchen and I carry in the wooden tray.
She takes the book, looks carefully at the cover and flips it to the first page.  It's a secondhand hardback bought at a market stall in January. My future son-in-law has designed a wedding invitation in the form of a book cover illustrated with fine-line pictures that are fragments of five years of love...She peers through her glasses and studies the tiny pictures the way you might examine a china cup.  Every detail in the design is noted and checked. She's impressed and tells me so.
The same goes for the photos. A Bristol garden in late spring.  A fernery.
As we drink tea and nibble on chocolate she's taking everything I've brought today in, in, in.
She's drinking it in, thinking it in, leaving this room...
Later I come away with an easter egg, a jar of humbugs and a near-ripe persimmon.