To pick the oranges off my trees I must have a long extension ladder.  My neighbor down the street lets me use his so this morning I rang his doorbell.  His wife opened the door. There was no friendly hello that I’d become so accustomed to. She just opened the door and said, ‘Bill has stage four esophageal cancer. We just found out on Friday.’

I felt as if someone had hit me in the stomach. I could not speak and simply listened as Linda recounted their recent journey of discovery. When she finished I reached out and wrapped her tight in my arms. We hugged and said goodbye. I went around the back of their house to get the ladder. Soon I heard Bill from an upstairs window, ‘Regina, take the big one so you can get the juicy oranges at the top of the tree.’ ‘I will Bill and I’ll bring them back to you.’ He smile and waved.

I spent two hours picking oranges. After all of the ones at the bottom had been picked and divided into bags for about a dozen family, friends and neighbors I went back up the ladder. I reached as high as I could to pick the fattest and juiciest oranges from the very top of the tree.  I filled two bags and took them to Bill.  He said they were the best ever. I hope so, because I want my friend to have as many best evers as possible.