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the floor and handed them to me. 
    A white haired lady, holding a mop said, "Go on, Mister Hudson." She patted my cheek with a maternal hand.  "We'll just tidy up a bit while you're out."
    It was hard to say no to a person that reminded me of Aunt Susan.  Even harder to refuse an offer to have my landfill cleaned.  Suddenly,  words began to fail.  "I just—I don't know what to…"
    "It's okay, Sam." Dave turned my shoulders, facing me towards the garage.  "Go ahead and be with your son."
     
    Aaron was stable, though still comatose.  The doctors had nothing new to report.  About all I could do was hold his hand, speak to him and just be there.    For about an hour I stayed with him, just holding his hand, talking to him, now that it was okay to do so.
    "Remember that trip to Wild Animal Park we were talking about?"  I brushed a hand through his hair.  "Well, I'm taking you there.  We'll see rhinos, lions, you can chase the ducks all you want this time."  The words caught in my throat.  "You just need to wake up soon.  Okay Aaron?"  Tears filled my eyes.  "I miss you."
    The nurse came in, apologized and turned away.
    Wiping my face with my arm, I waved her back.  "It's okay.  Just about ready to go."
    Without aim, I drove on the freeway until I arrived at La Jolla cove.  There, I sat on a warm rock, watching the tide-pooling kids holding hands with their parents.  Soon, as the waves began to roll in, churning white froth in the rocky crags, the families vanished.  Even the seals left the protected shore, leaving me alone with thoughts that were fast becoming unwelcome residents in my mind.
    Two hours later, when I came home, the house looked as clean as it had ever been.  The carpet had been vacuumed and shampooed.  All my papers were neatly arranged.  Decorations were set back in place.  On top of that, for the first time since Jenn’s death, the scent of home-cooked food floated sweetly in the air.
    As I entered, haunting echoes filled my mind—the kids running to me, assaulting me with hugs and giggles as they did every night when I came home from work.  Bethie would put her violin down and jump into my arms, even though she knew she was getting too big for that.
    "Daddy, daddy," Aaron would shout.  "Fly me!"  I'd pick him up, hold him horizontal and run all the way down the hall, the two of us shouting, To the sky, past the moon and into the heavens.   To infinity and beyond !
    What I wouldn’t give now to look into the kitchen and catch a glimpse of Jenn, with that knowing smile she had on our Wednesday "date" nights.
    In the foyer, Dave and the others were putting on their sweaters and jackets.  Lorraine, the elderly lady who reminded me of Aunt Susan smiled and patted my cheek.  "There’s a casserole in the oven, dear.  Just heat it at 350 for ten minutes."
    "I'm speechless."  The house almost looked like my home again.  "Thank you.  Thank you all."
    Dave smiled.  "Jenn was a sister to us."
    Since Jenn started attending City on a Hill, I had stiff armed them, cast them with the rest of the religious hypocrites.  These people, however, were unlike any of the other religious people I’d known.
    So moved was I by their kindness that I did something I never dreamed I’d do.  I invited them to join me for dinner.
     
    ___________________
     
    The unexpected food shortage crisis was quickly averted when Lorraine sent Alan to Vons to get more chicken and vegetables.  The aroma of buttered rolls, roasted rotisserie chicken, sweet white corn on the cob, and sautéed vegetables made my mouth water.
    I sat at the table with my guests, certain that by the end of the night I’d be preached at, pressured—albeit politely—to confess my sins and give my life to Jesus, Hallelujah!   But the closest it came to that was Dave asking if he could give thanks before we ate.  Of course he could.  Were she here, Jenn would have had it no other way.
    For the rest of the evening, we