Heptadecagon

She knows when she looks back on the moment later, she'll laugh. But now, as she watches her mom walk up and down the stairs and then watches her dad do the same thing, looks of confusion filling each of their faces, neither one convinced that the jacket in her hand is really her mother's, she realizes just how bad her parents' minds have become. How and when did the trajectory turn south? Hadn't she been there, most of the days, to help them with the mundane activities? Hadn't she been shuttling them to this appointment and that, finding the time to fit in trips to the grocery store and the library and church? Maybe she'd been too close to see anything, but she really figured she'd have more time than this to make changes in her life. To make changes in their lives. "Mom! This isn't my coat." She shakes the garment, trying to transfer her frustration from her own body to this inanimate object. "This isn't a coat that any of us hav...

The list of the Mom-approved menu items is sparse. It includes: Salami White bread Pepsi Eggs Frozen Waffles Cucumbers Lettuce Hotdogs Mushrooms Pasta Pizza You'll notice that she's very short on fruits, vegetables, and water. And don't get me started on the quality of meat she must be ingesting. I know when I visited, I tried serving her grilled chicken, lean pork chops, and vegetarian dishes, all of which were met with disdain. I don't pretend to understand what she's going through--how she likely sticks to the foods she's most comfortable with because she knows what to expect from them. I also don't understand, but wonder about, her ability to taste. If a brain is degenerating and said brain takes care of processing taste, then shouldn't her sense of taste change? No sooner had I written the above statement than my sister posted an article on a person suffering from Alzheimer's whose taste in food has changed. The article is a pa...

A simple list can be so crucial these days. A reminder of what to do, where she's been, what needs to be done next week. Much like her, I've always used lists. I gain joy from marking off each item as I accomplish it. But my lists and her lists are so vastly different, so far from one another, it pains me to think about those differences. List 1: pasta, mushrooms A seemingly innocuous list, unless you know that it serves as a reminder of what she currently has on the stove for dinner that night. List 2: Granite City, Belleville, Troy, Bloomfield A list of cities but also a way of remembering where she's lived since having been married. List 3: M, Feb 8, 70 years old; T, Aug 20, 80 years old The most powerful list of all...the one that speaks volumes and brings tears to my eyes...the one that indicates she isn't sure when her birthday is or how many years she's had on this earth. I look at her, washing dishes at the sink for the sixth time that day. I ...