The Puzzle

A Puzzle

The puzzle is almost complete. Only a few more pieces to go.

“This is too easy,” I say to myself.

“What’s that you say?”

Mother looked up from the word search book she’d been working on for over a month, with little success.

“I said, this is too easy. I only have two more pieces to go. And there they are! Done!”

I sat back, surveyed the finished puzzle. It was a bouquet of flowers sitting on a table with a cat. Lot of colors. 1,000 pieces. It had taken about five days to complete. Easy peasy.

“How did you do that so fast? I can never do them anymore. Makes me nervous.”

“I do the border first, then look for patterns. Then it all falls into place after that. It’s hard to explain.”

Mom had already tuned me out. She was concentrating on the word search.

“What do you want me to do with this?”

No answer.

“Mom? Do you want this put away now?”

“Hmm. Put what away? Put me away? No, I want to stay here.”

“No, the puzzle. Put it away?”

“I am puzzled. I cannot find this word. I’ve been searching for it all day.”

I’m worried enough about the signs that Mom goes to the doctor. Seems she had a small stroke, actually a TIA. A mini-stroke. She’ll stay at the hospital for a few days.

I leave the puzzle where it is. Perhaps when Mom comes home she can work on it. But if not, it will be a sort of memorial to our last day together.

W/C 267