me and momma

Mom’s friend calls me often. 

“Is your mom with you?”, she always asks. I’ve had to explain to my mom’s friend over and over her the complications involved and that scenario.

“No, Mom is not with me, and it’s highly unlikely that she ever will be, ” I answer, trying not to let onto how annoyed her question makes me. It’s not her fault. She doesn’t understand. She’s only being hopeful.

“Ah, well, I don’t know why you say your mom doesn’t remember. She remembers,” she says and then she tells the story for what feels . “She hasn’t forgotten! She remembers the time we went swimming and all of us friends had to hang on to one tire to stay afloat!”She tells me this story for what feels like the millionth time. 

Then I have to explain, yet again, about how it’s the newer stuff Mom doesn’t remember, and about Alzheimer’s and how there is no cure. 

Mom’s friend does not listen. Either that, or she has Alzheimer’s, too. 

Coincidentally, I recently came across pictures of my mom and her friend swimming with the tire.

   
 
It’s almost Teo’s first birthday. I can’t tell you how many times this year my heart has hurt because of how much I wish Mom could be here to share in all the joy her grandson brings. Somehow, there’s got to be a way to bring our lives closer together. Yearly visits aren’t cutting it, and saying goodbye is always hard. The perfect solution is out there somewhere. I just know it.