Balancing a cream bed tray, Toby gently knocked on the door, waiting for permission of entry.
"Come in," he heard, amidst heart breaking whooping. Her voice which used to be rich and full of life now sounded sick, tired, but yet not miserable.
Even when she had a frog in her throat so to speak, Mrs. Cavanaugh's voice was gentle, soft, and warming to the soul. It was any wonder where Toby had inherited his soft tone, so soothing without even intending to be. Where as he didn't inherit anything physical from his father. He has the same sandy hair as his mother, the same glistening blue eyes which lit up at certain times, and he has her personality,if that makes any sense. BY that I mean he has the same kindness of heart, he same politeness, and can be rude,but rarely ever wishes too, but of course unless he has too.
Propping the door open with his elbow, Toby tip-toed across the characteristically aged wooden floor, taking a seat as he set down the tray by his mother's legs and helped prop her up against her floraled pillows.
Her hands coming up to tickle the lining of her bandanna Mrs. Cavanaugh mustered a weak smile at her adorable son. "Oh, Toby…" He tried not to cry then and there, but if he was going to be the one looking after his MOther when his watcher was at work he knew he couldn't afford to waste her happiness. Mrs. Cavaughnah was always a ray of sunlight when around people, non matter what her state of health was.
He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat, and Toby reached for her hands and held them tenderly in his own, "You look beautiful, mum."
She smiled in return, her hands squeezing his, "Such a charmer you are…and so early in the morning."
"Actually," Toby looked to the clock hanging on the wall, "It's past two."
Her face grew alarmed, "I suppose these days I spend more time sleeping than I do anything else, don't I? Your father at work?" She calmed down once when her son slowly ,assuaged her hands.
Toby nodded, "Left an hour ago."
"Hmm," his mother hummed absentmindedly. This was a normal thing for her to do, and she normally does it, and she doesn't even realise it.
"I brought you something," Toby finally said softly, motioning to the feast he'd slaved over, but he didn't mind. Everything was worth it if he could see his Mothers smile.
Her spearmint eyes took in the waffles topped in strawberries and blueberries, along with the orange juice which, Toby had made himself. Completing the sweet gesture was a slip of paper with Toby's handwriting, and carnations in a small glass vase.
"Oh, Toby. Such a sweet, thoughtful boy. You went to all this trouble for little old me?"
The dimples in his cheeks visible, Toby nodded at his mother, "It was no trouble, and you're big to me…in my heart, I mean."
The two chuckled, before Mrs. Cavanaugh began to dig into her gourmet meal made with love.
Moments later, she was perched over a toilet, tossing up everything she'd just consumed. Toby assisted her back into bed, tucking her back in carefully. He kissed her forehead, placing a dampened, cool cloth atop it, dabbing where her bandanna exposed her pale skin.
"I'm sorry," she apologized in a rasp, but he shook his head. He knows this happens because its normal for her, now anyways. She grows up everything she eats, and now in result of that she's growing skinnier and skinner.
"Don't be." Toby insisted, "You okay?"
"Of course I'm okay. I'm more than okay. I have the best son in the entire universe taking care of me, making me breakfast, and bringing me my favorite flowers. What's this?"
Retrieving the little note, Toby handed it to her, a blush in his cheeks. "Our daily quotes."
For the last year since his mother had gotten ill, the two exchanged inspiring or meaningful quotes. It had become a daily tradition, and maybe to the world it seemed like a useless gesture, but to the Mother and son sitting in the bedroom, it meant the world.
Mrs. Cavanaugh cleared her throat, reading it aloud. "It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light. Aristotle."
Touched, Mrs. Cavanaugh held out her arms, waiting for Toby to accept her embrace. When he did, she rubbed his back, closing her eyes to cherish this moment. "You are my light, Toby. You've always been my light. And someday, someday you're going to be some beautiful, lucky, nice girl's light. And you're going to bring HER breakfast and flowers, and recite poetry to her. Promise me you will?"
Batting back the tears, Toby squeezed his mother tighter to him, kissing her hair, "Promise."