Betty was sleeping in her recliner when she heard the sound.  She stirred slightly, not awake but not asleep either. It was a familiar sound yet she couldn't identify it in her dazed condition.  Just as she was drifting back into a peaceful slumber, she heard the noise again. 

Wide awake now, she looked around the room to find the source of the racket.  When she saw it, she was shocked that she hadn't been able to identify it sooner.  

“Good morning, Delores.”  Dr. Baker said as he opened the door to the examination room.  Before he was a doctor—to me or anyone else—he had been a friend and fellow church and choir member.  He was also an outstanding soloist.  Those of us that knew him when he was still in school called him “Dr. Dave.”  One of the older ladies of the church couldn’t remember his name, so she called him “the singing doctor.” 

No matter what he was called, today he was my doctor and the look on his face was one of concern.  “The report is not good, Delores.” 

"Mother, why did you keep this old handkerchief? It looks like it has been run over by a car. It's filthy. Look how yellow it is. It's not worth anything. We are throwing this out." Ann was trying to move her 78 year old mother into an assisted living facility. Packing up almost 60 years of memories was difficult physically and emotionally.

"Don't you throw out the handkerchief. It is priceless."