A Reds poster hangs on one wall, and stacks of CDs spill onto her desk. A bright orange Bengals pillow adorns her single bed. Holly isn't the only one with memories that would be difficult to leave behind. Old photographs of Ms. Rauh when she was in the Navy during World War II line the condo walls. A curio cabinet filled with glass dolls sits in one corner.
Small chocolate cookies on delicate white china plates fill the kitchen table.
She says she has tried to plan for her own death but worries there won't be enough money left for Holly to go dancing or bowling on Saturday nights. Perhaps, she frets, no one will ever care enough to take her daughter on vacation again. She motions out the window just as Holly heads up the path toward home. When she was a baby, and she'd raise her head, I'd run and get the camera. We've always been so close.