'Morning sleepyhead' I said, smiling at my teenage daughter. 'Morning Mom' she yawned.
'How are you feeling today?' I asked, the usual greeting, not remotely loaded with unspoken thoughts. 'I'm fine. Don't stress' she replied sharply, then sighed. 'Sorry. I'm fine really, It's all good Mom'. I nodded. Every day. For the past four years. Watching and waiting for the slightest sign of illness. A constant pit of fear in my stomach that never leaves. Watching for the cough or sneeze that might finally signal P4 had begun. The waiting for the inevitable it seemed.
Sophie was watching me, also looking for any signs I might ill and hiding it. I smiled 'We're good, you and me, always, undefeatable'.
'Indestructible, Mom' she smiled. 'What's for breakfast?'
'Well now, there's a lovely selection on offer this morning' I smiled. 'Tinned peaches, tinned beans or tinned carrots. Take your pick'.
'Fantastic' she groaned. 'What I wouldn't give for a glass of juice and a piece of toast. Simple things.'
I ruffled her hair, something I knew she hated. 'Suck it up sunshine. Food is what it is. Unless you want to go shopping'. Her face fell. 'Tinned peaches are fine, no shopping required' she muttered and walked off.
Shopping was of course a horrific but necessary chore. We have tried growing our own food, with some success, but not enough to keep us going. Neither of us are up to the task of butchering a live animal so protein is always an issue. All the fresh and perishable goods in the local shops had long since perished, so our diet consisted of tinned food and the meagre vegetables we managed to grow. A lot of tinned food. I looked over the dwindling supply of tins I still kept hidden, despite it being very unlikely they would be stolen and shook my head. Oh dear.
'Sophie' I called. 'What?' came back the response from the kitchen.
'Down to 10 tins. Actually we will have to go shopping'. The silence that followed told me exactly how she felt about that.