FOREWORD

My mother had dementia, and although she never forgot our names and faces, she sometimes had trouble distinguishing one family member from another. She was unable to stay in the present, and was often lost, not knowing where she was in reality; so we visited her in the past.

This short series is a composition of excerpts from my personal journal, written during a very difficult time in my life. I share these words as a tribute to my mother, and to the unique bond that exist between all mothers and daughters.

WHEN YOU BECOME A MOTHER YOU GIVE YOUR HEART AWAY, AND IT NEVER BEATS FOR YOU AGAIN.

Winter 1999

She sits alone, her frail form dwarfed by the over-sized chair. Her shoulders are slumped and she leans precariously to one side. Her gray head has dropped forward and her softly folded chin rests between collar bone and breast. Her eyes are closed in sleep and she makes sounds that are words only in her mind. Her name is Stella, but she would always be called Maxine.

As I watch her sleep I worry that she might fall over. I would feel better if she were lying down .

I watch her...this December woman, and remember all the seasons that have come and gone. My mind fills with images...snapshots of time...bits and pieces of a life. I see a happy young woman in the 40's, anticipating her future. I see the curls in her dark hair, and the light in her eyes when she laughs - a pretty, slender, fiesty girl, who never meets a stranager; and who would rather dance than eat. And I can see her dancing as though she were Ginger Rogers, with the man she loves. I see the joy she experiences in the family she treasures, and I see her gentle spirit become a lioness to protect them. I see her so often give herself away to rescue a fallen soul, and I see her sacrifice everyday to keep her children safe; and too soon I see the times her heart is shattered and the light beginning to dim in her eyes. I see her struggle to understand the collapse of her happy world, and the loneliness that enters her heart. Still, even in those times I see her strength as she tries to carry the weight of a life far too heavy for her delicate soul. Then year by year I see her slip away from the present and step back to happier times - to the people she loved when she was young and happy.

As I sit and watch this December woman, I wonder at the miracle of life, and the blessings that can be found in tragedy. My December woman has found the land of Once Upon A Time, and in her mind, even as she sits sleeping, she is herself once more - the young woman with curls in her dark hair, dancing with the man she loves, and light shining from her eyes as she laughs.

I watch her with such love and longing, that I hardly know where she ends and I begin. All I can do is cry...for this woman is my mother.

To be continued. "....Call Me Maxine" part 2