I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope/ For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,/ For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith/ But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
[T.S. Eliot]

My mom, just now: “I could eat the same thing every day. Granola with two cups of coffee for breakfast. And then cheese and crackers.” [Pause.] “I kind of do eat the same thing every day, so what is this ‘I could’?” [Ascends staircase out of view. Redescends, leaning on banister and sticking just her head around the corner to make eye contact.] “I always think, ‘What do I want to eat now?’ and then I think, ‘Oh right. I like cheese and crackers.’” [Re-ascends staircase, grinning.]