Oh, Mother!

It is difficult sometimes to remember Mother as she was - strong, in charge, running rather than walking, bright and sunny, ready to laugh, her interests wide as the sky.  I look at her now, frail, virtually silent, her interests limited to the moment, her memory confused and clouded.

Now Mother is more like a small child who has found a new game and cannot be distracted from it.  We sit on her bed side-by-side sharing a lunch sized bag of corn chips.  She winks.  Now we play her favorite game, noses and foreheads touching and looking into each other's eyes.  She pulls back only long enough to grab a corn chip and chew.  Back and forth we go.

Up close I notice even her once clear blue eyes are fading.  They are becoming almost white in places like a pair of long loved and well worn pair of jeans.  Only the edges of her eyes hold their true color.  I wonder if they reflect the shrinking of her brain.  Is there only a small rim left that holds her true self?

We touch noses back and forth for more than 20 minutes.  "Oh, Mother!" she sighs and cuddles into my shoulder.  I rock her and sing.  My poor Mother child.