There were storms and power cuts.
I was too dangerous for candles. My hands were
aching, I tried to forget them. I could hardly chop
the carrots—can you remember how to cook
corned beef like your mother did?
Then my knees happened. A terrible way
to say hello. I could hardly walk.
An onion halved is an onion shared. You drove
me to the hospital. Despite my fear
I still enjoyed driving through the dark.