My Mother’s Stories
I’m visiting my 95 year old mother in a personal care home. My mother was a wonderful storyteller but now her mind is failing. She can no longer remember details, but when I mention a slice of a narrative she gave me many years ago, her mind clicks in and she remembers again. I don’t know if it’s sad or not, that this is how it ends for many. Fragments disappear slowly, until one day there is little left to share. Or are these just bookends in life? You start as a baby with little or no memory, and then at the end, there is just too much to process, and the mind collapses to nothingness once more. It’s just the way it is, if you live that long. It can be a beautiful thing, depending on your vanatage point. A kind of a clearing house.
