Taking a Moment

Today...just now, my mother and I are sitting on the screened porch. The sun is streaming in warming us on a rare eighty degree day in November.  Mom is rocking quietly and smiling broadly.  I ask her, "What are you thinking Mom?"

She replies, "Nothing."   

She is right.  Most of the time her mind is open...free of thought...taking in the moment...just being.  It is a rather euphoric state and I often wonder if it isn't the place where I would like to be at my end of days.  The innocence on her face, the sheer joy of looking up at the trees, the sky, the clouds, amazes me.  This woman who was once so multi-faceted, complicated, intelligent, talented, industrious, adventurous, curious; this woman  is now content to sit and rock.

I yearn to have a conversation with her, to enjoy her wisdom, her insights of yesteryear.  Instead when I ask her a question she answers with a mindless giggle --  a childlike response that shows no understanding. The question hangs in the air assaulting me with the need for an answer.   It is unimportant and yet I practically will my mother to respond, to find the words that escape her.  She opens her mouth and provides a garbled collection of unintelligible words.  (Her aphasia has just now blocked  her ability to speak in a coherent sentence.)  I wrongly echo her gibberish back at her with a raised eyebrow and push for her to try again, trying to reverse the ravages of this debilitating condition.  She frowns for a moment but then grows silent as she forgets the brief frustration, the unpleasantness.  I sit back sadly knowing that no matter how much I will it, there is no reversing the inevitable.  For a moment I am angry, not at her; at the situation.  "How unfair this is!" I rail. "How wrong to lose a loved one piece by piece, memory by memory. " But then, sitting across from her I look over and see the sun reflecting in her gaze, her eyes twinkle and give off a radiance from deep within. I see the contentment in her being, the easy comfort as she looks around taking in nature's beauty.   

Some small birds squawk noisily and it catches her attention.  I ask her if she hears them and she nods happily.  We both smile. She at the birds and me at the simplicity of the moment.  

I want to take a ribbon and wrap it around this memory to save for later...this togetherness, this brief exchange.  I feel the urgency as the time ticks away the minutes each one faster than the last; each one a pronouncement of a finite end. I know that tomorrow or maybe the next day or month or year,  the lights will dim from her eyes, the smile will fade from her face, the expression will change.   I know that sometime soon, there will be a vacant chair where once she sat and rocked and I will miss her so.  This, I remind myself so very often, is why right now, I will let the phone ring, the dust collect on the furniture, and laundry remain unfolded.  This time, this being, is so very, very precious.  I take her in -- the image, the essence of her.  I embrace it and hold it to my heart.  I follow her gaze and share with her trying desperately to rid myself of the stress, the worry, the thoughts that plague me, those things that make me sad.  "Yes," I affirm silently.  "I will ignore all else.  This is my special time with my mother.  I will not ignore it nor will I minimize its importance.  Instead I will cherish it as I sit on the screened porch and rock, and smile, and enjoy. " 

I sit back, silently, peacefully, just being in her presence; grateful for the moment.