Amazing Grace

“Would you like some crackers? Maybe some cheese?  You must be hungry.”

“No thank you.  But could I have a glass of water?”

I sat outside perplexed, reading assembly instructions for a small gas grill that contained no words, only pictures.  She sat inside, a prisoner of sorts, worrying about me.  I, of course, was fine, but she had sent a foot soldier to make sure I was fine. 

Much has changed, but much remains the same.

Soft supple skin has given way to tissue paper. Arms and shoulders once cushioned by the right amount of subcutaneous fat and muscle have given way to boney prominences punctuated with atrophic recesses.  Her ankles, once speckled with tiny varicosities that she blamed on us, were wrapped to provide physical pressure where oncotic pressure has failed.  Her beautiful blue eyes stood fast and captivating, only their lids proved unreliable.

Much has changed, but much remains the same.

With my recent trip there, we spoke of the parties, the anniversaries, the projects, the plans.  While short, she would chuckle at the craziness of it all.  She could still marvel at my pictures: the kids, my wife, my wife's family and especially my father.  Her tender gaze and audible sigh spoke volumes as she pined for another time and him. 

Much has changed, but much remains the same.

I wish that I could be there today to make you breakfast.  I wish that I could see your smile.  I wish you could see the kids - they’ve gotten so big   I wish you could see our flowers.  Maybe we could watch a movie together? Or share a bit of guitar?  It was  hard seeing your appetite dwindle, Mom, your challenges with solid food. 

Could I get you some crackers or maybe some cheese? You must be hungry. 

Are you sure?

-Wes

PS: Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.