SoCS: This Door

This door I walk through every week

It is her petite figure I seek

Sleeping in a brown broda chair

Wrinkly forehead under gray hair

I say, “Hello, mom, how are you?”

She says, “Who are you?”

I tell her my name is Mary

but she seems a bit wary

It goes back and forth most days

This unknowing haze

Am I sister or daughter?

Is it March or October?

This door leads to Pauline

The Energizer Bunny machine

Still going at ninety-eight

Eating most everything on her plate

She asks repeatedly to go home

And who will her chauffeur be?

Much like a Quatrain poem

This stanza is her standing plea

I hold her hand, we talk

More like she dozes, I talk

I don’t always know what to say

To keep silence at bay

This door is the entrance to the past

Where Pauline’s future was cast 

Her mind a cloud of dust

In others she must trust

So, what does tomorrow bring?

Her daughter keeps wondering

Will mom know where she resides

Or wonder if there’s snow outside?

This door opens to the sun

Where her memories continue to run

Of Milwaukee family long ago

That she’ll meet when she finally goes home

Stream of Consciousness Saturday is the door that opens to author Linda G. Hill. Every Friday, Linda provides her followers with a prompt. It can be a word or words and sometimes bonus points are involved (my favorite). Linda asks us to write without editing, other than correcting spelling errors.

Just go with the flow.

Like a babbling brook, ambling stream or running river. Click HERE if this type of writing floats your boat or helps with your decision-making.

31 responses to SoCS: This Door

  1. Shelley says:

    Aw, been there, done that, caring for a loved one with dementia it’s not easy. Your mom is very lucky to have an understanding daughter. Hugs to you and your mom!

      • shelleykrupagmailcom says:

        I continue to be amazed at how our human bodies remain resilient even when our brain starts to fail. Enjoy every moment you have with her!

  2. Joanne Sisco says:

    This is the first time I can recall that you’ve referred to your mom’s name. She is quite remarkable to still be so relatively healthy 💕

    • bikerchick57 says:

      I think I wrote mom’s name before, but not sure. Anyhow, you are correct in that mom is remarkable to still be kicking. I found it very interesting when hospice took her off her diabetic and blood pressure meds that nothing went wrong. How does that happen?

  3. Dan Antion says:

    That’s a very special door and you are such a good daughter/sister/person for going through as you do. 98 is amazing, your mom must be a strong woman, and clearly she’s under good care.

    • bikerchick57 says:

      I truly thought mom wouldn’t last long after dad passed away, but boy did she prove me wrong. If she makes it to 100 it will be both a miracle and a celebration.

  4. I lost my Mom when I was so young…always felt so deprived and marked by the experience. Orphaned way too early.

    Ahh, but THIS…what you have and what you have to do and who you are, Mary. I’m in awe. I also feel deep sadness for parts of your journey with your mother.

    And ever so slightly envious.

    • bikerchick57 says:

      I’m sorry you lost your mom early in life. I hope you’ve had family and friends along the way that filled some of the void. There have been the sad parts with mom, but every day I get to visit with her and hold her hand is a good day. We don’t always have great conversations, but I hope that mom just enjoys having her daughter/sister there.

  5. JoAnna says:

    This is beautiful. I tell my husband, “If I get dementia, you have to sing with me.” He doesn’t like to sing and I love singing. I’ve heard that helps with dementia.

    • bikerchick57 says:

      Thanks JoAnna. I feel the same way about music and singing. No matter what my mind is like when I’m elderly, music has to be part of my life. I think the act of singing and remembering the words must help the dementia and alzheimer’s patients as it provides stimulation.

      • JoAnna says:

        Yes! Songs flow better than words alone. I’ve read that about stroke patients, too.

  6. None of us are leaving this life alive, but the journeys we take are so diverse. I applaud you for the support you give your Mom. As children we do not understand the efforts made on our behalf. When we become adults and have our own lives, it could seem like an imposition to take care of them. But, I think you will be able to look back on these days with no regrets, and what more could you ask for. 🙂

    • bikerchick57 says:

      The only regret I may have, Judy, is not getting to know my parents better when I was younger. Being married then, I really didn’t have the kind of conversations that I now wished I would have had. I’ve had wonderful engaging visits with mom, but as she slips deeper into her dementia, she can tell me less and less of her long life.

      There’s no imposition in being there for mom or my weekly visits. I’m happy to be whoever she wants me to be. 🙂

  7. Ally Bean says:

    I agree about wondering what it’d be like to have known my parents better– as an adult friend, rather than a child. Don’t know that there’s a word for that feeling/regret, but there should be.

    • bikerchick57 says:

      Even though I wish I had spent more time with mom and dad during my adult years, I am grateful for the stories mom has told me of her youth the past few years. Some of these stories I had never heard before.

  8. Oh Mary …. I have absolutely nothing I can say, for I’m choked both in the throat by a huge lump, and in my heart, where normally my words come from.

    I think you’re amazing. Truly.
    I send my love ~ Cobs. xxx ❤

    • bikerchick57 says:

      Aww, thank you Cobs. I paid mom a visit today and although she wasn’t very talkative, she ate like a trooper. Mom loves her meat and has been eating things she never ate before. Appetite is a good thing! ☺
      Sending love back at ya!

  9. joey says:

    That’s a wonderful doors post, Mary. Very sweet and often cute. Y’all are lucky to share this door.

  10. Claudia says:

    Never forget the person who seems to forget you loves you still. Always has, always will. They are just not able to tell you. So love them even if they forget your name. Their heart never forgets.

      • Claudia says:

        I only say this because if I ever lose touch with reality I want my kids to know how much I love them.

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