A Wink and a Smile

There are days when I visit Mother that weigh so heavily upon me that I cry as I drive away.  But once in a while there are extraordinary days.  They are bright days when just a glimpse of Mother as she was shines through.  Yesterday was one of those bright days.

It was warm and sunny, and Mother was willing to go outside.  So I wiggled her into her sweater and slippers, and she perched her sunglasses on her nose and off we went to the patio.  She shuffled down the hall hanging on to my arm as I balanced the glass of tea and the carrot cake cupcake.  It takes a lot of energy for her to get out the door and down the sidewalk to the patio and bench, but she shuffled along and dropped onto the bench.

It was a good thing she was eating outside.  She dug into the cupcake dropping crumbs of cake and drops of cream cheese icing all around her.  She ate and turned her face up to the sun.  Suddenly, she asked, "Where is your car?"  I told her it was parked in front of the building.  She asked again and yet a third time.  Finally, she tilted her head and flashed her wicked, ornery smile.

"We could go get it."  She bent closer holding the last bite of cupcake.
"Where do you want to go?"  I asked.
"Judon."
(Judon is a small town about 150 miles away on which she has become fixated.)
I told her it was too far to go there.  I couldn't drive there.
She leaned closer and in her best conspiratorial voice asked,  "What about your sisters?"
I had to laugh.  Through her dementia she was trying to work me, trying to convince me to pile her in the car and go for a joy ride.

If only I could have.  But she is too unpredictable to take her by myself.  I promised her that when to dogwoods were blooming we would go.
"Okay,"  she said the popped the last bite of cupcake in her mouth.

For just a moment, I had had as real a conversation as possible with Mother.  She had had a plan, and she tried to use all of her old charms to get her way.  That wink and a smile. That reaching for an alternative plan. It was a sweet moment even through the crumbs of cupcake and the smears of frosting on her face.