The next year Berry was old enough to walk. When June arrived she carried her own small basket in one hand and held her mother's hand with the other. Martha had a basket over each arm and they walked into the woods, past the thicket and into the bower with the rainbow's arc of raspberry bushes. They both filled their baskets with raspberries, not so full as to crush the berries but neither so shallow as to miss the best ones. Then they walked home singing all the way and made paper baskets with red and white strips of paper. They filled the baskets with berries and a card that said "Because you are loved." Martha put her finger under her chin and wondered. 

"Mrs. Smith is lonely. Her children have all moved away and she eats her meals alone. She needs a basket. And the Johnsons. A tree fell on their barn and they are scrambling to rebuild it before winter sets in."

Then she and Berry crept up to each house, left a basket on the door knob and slipped away. 

By the time Berry was six, her mother began to feel pain in her legs. There was an ache that would not be rubbed away, and she often sat down. In June when they went to pick raspberries Berry was curious.

"Mama, why do you walk so slowly?"

Martha tried to smile. "To enjoy the woods more, and to hear the birds."

But it grew harder for Martha to do the chores. Berry noticed, and began to pull her stool up to the sink to plunge her hands into the soapy water and wash the dishes. Then she would drag her stool to the stove,  chop the vegetables and plop them with a splash into the soup pot. Martha smiled.

Samuel worried, and one day he crafted a chair with wheels that rolled so that Berry could push her mother where they needed to go. Berry loved this new freedom and her arms grew as strong as ropes.

One day in church Berry bowed her curly head in prayer. 

"Oh Lord, Please make my mother strong again. Let her walk so that she can do the things she loves, and be happy." But Berry heard no answer. So she continued to push her mother in the chair with wheels that rolled to the market, and to church, and every June to pick raspberries. 

to be continued