Diane, the author's Mum.

My mornings are spent at the Hospice sitting quietly with my mother. She naps a lot. When she wakes, we might exchange a little conversation and then she'll doze off again.
I have taken to filing my nails while she sleeps. I have become privy to her beauty bag. It contains a few simple tools; a tiny tweezers, a little scissors, a file and a couple of sticks of lipstick. She can no longer apply her own lipstick. So I take the stick and carefully follow the contour of her lips. The upper one is especially thin. Still, I do an OK job for a beginner. The hospice has twelve beds. Most weeks sees two to four new arrivals, so a little lipstick helps to maintain a daily semblance of order. The file is longer than I've seen and has a pretty handle. I could imagine an inmate coveting a file like this. I've only ever used a clipper as it saves time. But now I look and admire my new nails and notice my soft hands. Cutting cheese all day wrecks havoc with the plain hand.