My Mother. She’s like an illuminated two-story house glowing white, grounded on a hill on the top of my mind.
Both mi Madre and my home are clean and orderly smelling of Mexican house cleaner- do you know that smell? I love it!! Ask any Mexican. It is the coziest ever! This house of my Mother in my mind’s eye is very white; it almost glistens. The windows are always open because it is warm outside with the curtains flowing in the soft breeze. This house has many rooms and each one is filled with light. I can always find my Mother in this house.
My Mother is 87 years old and little by little, the light in each individual room has been starting to dim as her health has also been dimming. I have witnessed her lights going out; sometimes suddenly, sometimes gradually. When one of the lit rooms extinguishes I say to myself, “Oh no. That room doesn’t have light anymore! But this white house still glows for me; my Mother is still there for me.” I often feel scared. I wonder if my children, now adults, see me the same way as I see my Mother. Am I the same strong, warm, illuminated foundation for them? Will my lights start going out eventually?
Although my Mother is fading into the darkness of dementia and Alzheimer’s, I can still call on her and she is still thrilled to talk to me even though she does not know not how old I am, where I am or what I am doing. She is still perfectly glowing, warm and orderly for me. Her voice will always be my home. The front porch light still shines.
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