Patricia stared at the painting from her bed and remembered a time long ago. Painting was a talent of hers and over the years Patricia painted many portraits of her four daughters. The one she was admiring now was Sally the youngest in the family. At the time of the painting she was only four years old and found a tiny little frog. Picking up the frog she kissed him and was quite mad that he did not turn into a prince. Except now Patricia was old and Sally was too. All of her daughters were Grandmas now and they were with her now. Patricia was dying and her room at the hospice was decorated with all the paintings she had done of her family. There was no fear of death and having her children by her eased her worries. How time goes by so fast and the portrait of Sally was only a reminder of this. In the portait she is young playing in the backyard and looking at her now. Wrinkles covering her face, hands shaky from arthritis and eyes that were no longer clear. Patricia could look in the mirror and see time had walked across her face as well.
The paintings that filled the walls were a story of her life. Celia in a beautiful dress going to prom, Elizabeth graduating highschool, and June's wedding to her first husband. Each one a moment in time, each one a memory of a lifetime full of happiness. Patricia also knew heartache, but in the last part of life she only wanted to focus on the positive. The stroke had taken a toll on her body and she could no longer speak. Patircia could hear what everyone stated but verbally could not respond. Even in her old age she learned one more thing, people could say so much just by looking into each other's eyes or by one smile. Just by squeezing someones hands could speak volumes. Celia was crying and Patricia took her hand and carressed the side of her face. When she was a baby Patricia would do that to calm her down and even though time had gone by it still worked. Celia smiled at her and Patricia could feel her body dying.