Christmas Eve, 2017
More than likely not knowing who I am,
my mother says to me, “Where’s my husband?
He was here earlier and I’m thinking he may be lost!”
To which I write on her board, “He’ll be back soon. Don’t worry!”
My father now gone ten years, I still miss him
and talk to him quite often inside my head.
And as I hold my mother’s hand, and nod when she asks if she’s okay,
I reflect on the fact that she’s 99 and a half years old,
and though she suffers from dementia
there are times when she definitely knows who I am,
saying my name, asking me to take her home,
and is there room in the car for all her things...
