I sat next to his hospital bed, holding his hand in mine. Looking it over and thinking about bringing him hand lotion the next day. I could help his dry hands heal at least.

“I want to invent something.” He said.

Squeezing his hand, I ask, “What would you invent?”

“I don’t know. Something. Something that would take care of you for the rest of your life.”

I smile and look from his hand to him. “Oh yea? What about you?”

He smiles at me. “Something to take care of us for the rest of our lives.”