after work,
I went to visit with Mama.
She ( at eighty years old)
has had an incredible amount of change
in her life over these last few months.
The rapid onset of dementia,
two moves of house,
and all the stress
that that brings,
to anyone.
I arrived at the
( assisted living ) home,
and found her in the living room.
When she saw me,
her eyes filled up with tears.
The big fat roll right down your face variety.
I suggested we went up so I could see
her new room.
We did,
and I chittered away about
work and family and bloved.
She talked about building her house,
church,
and her family.
Sometimes the room grew quiet
between sentences.
I let the silence sit.
Through the window,
I could hear the bells of the local chapel
ringing,
calling people to prayer.
I looked out the window
to the day beyond,
my thoughts drifting to what I
needed to do
when I finally got home.
Then quietly,
a small voice beside me.
* I like the ducks on your socks, Anna,*
* So do I Mama,* I said.
* So do I. *
