Snow Melt

The Last Week of September

It's the last week of September,
there are seven days left in the month,
there are three months left in the year.

I'm sitting at my computer, which is located on a desk in the living room. I'm sitting so that I can look out the window or look over at my mother. Mom is sitting in her wheelchair holding her doll on her lap. She is going through her second childhood. She is forgetting and unlearning 91 years of life. Today, I'm not sure that she remembers I'm her daughter. She know my name, but I don't know whether she thinks I am her daughter, her mother, or just a friend. The truth is I'm not sure I want to know sometimes it's better not to know who my mother thinks I am.

It I thought crying would do any good, I would cry. I can't leave the living room for more then a few minutes when Mom is awake because she might get out of the wheelchair and hurt herself. I can't cry in front of Mom because it would only upset her or make her cry as well. Mom spent the morning crying. The medication for agitation finally kicked in, so she doesn't want to cry any more. Right now, Mom seems to want to hold her doll and doze, which is better then her wanting to get up and go to the kitchen. When Mom decides she wants to go to anther room then she attempts to get out of the wheelchair.

It's the last week of September and I remember other Septembers before the Alzheimer's disease. I remember Septembers when we went shopping, to poetry readings, or to spiritual gatherings. All the places Mom enjoyed going in September. Mom used to enjoy evenings in restaurants, at the movies, at open mic poetry readings, etc. Mom used to enjoy staying up until midnight and watching televisions. Now Mom goes to bed about 5:30 P.M. When the television is on, I never know how much of it she sees or hears; sometimes she responds to the television shows and sometimes she doesn't. I think I will post this now before I start crying on my new keyboard.