Time

It's hard to know exactly where Mom is in time in her mind these days. I assume she is with us, knows us, is aware who she is with, then she shockingly insists that I am her sister. "I'm your daughter!" I say.

"You are NOT my daughter! You're my SISter." I shake my head from side to side. "How old are you?" she demands to know.

"I'm 60 years old, Mom."

"There. See. You're my younger sister."

I am dumbfounded and cannot speak until I manage to say, "Are you playing with me, Mom?" She doesn't answer right away, just stares off into the distance as we drive home from her doctor's appointment.

"I'm trying to think...I did have a stillborn daughter, and a son. I don't think I had a daughter...Wait a minute, maybe I did have a daughter named Donna."

So now I'm not sure whether she thinks of me as her daughter or as a really devoted younger sister taking good care of her.

She spent last Saturday night with her granddaughter Heidi and her family who had taken her to her sister Ruth's 90th birthday party. I met Heidi's husband Jason half way on Sunday to get her back to Wellstone House. When she got in the car, she asked, "Who is that man anyway?"

She told me she had a wonderful time at the birthday party. "Can you imagine, there were so many people there from when I was young and living in Claremont. One had a beard and I'm pretty sure he used to date Midge [her twin sister]. It was really fun to see them again." I was pretty certain 80 and 90-year old friends from my mother's teen years were not in attendance but I let it go.

When we unpacked her things and I looked at her camera pictures, I saw some familiar faces of my own cousins. Mom pointed to my 68-year old cousin Duffy, "He's the one. Midge's old boyfriend. He said I should know who he was. I told him I recognized his face but didn't know his name."

I couldn't let it go. "Mom, that's Duffy, Ruth's son."

"THAT is NOT Duffy!" she said with scorn in her voice. I decided not to argue.

While I visited in her room the other day, she sorted through a bunch of birthday and Christmas cards she had received since last October. There were several from Penny Wood who I knew from my old church and has been devoted to her card-writing ministry. Mom spent 20 minutes looking through the pile and reading each, individual return address, "Penny Wood. ... Penny Wood!" She chuckled as she looked up and smiled at me. "She's the one who used to clean my house, remember?" I just shook my head in the affirmative. It was no use telling her that was Nancy from Easter Seals. "She told me once that I was her friend, you know." Yes, I know, Mom.




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Location:Derry, NH