She recalls the smallest detail from years ago.
She recalls the long ago.
And she forgets the half a moment away.
Mystery in the mind, mystery in the aging
of memory.
A life gets blurred like watercolors on a canvas.
Color present, color faded, lines and detail run away and off the page
Until a version of blurry new is present in the present.
And what will I recall.
What will I remember.
Will the written anchor memories of each, of the three, the best, the challenges
I dream a dream of capturing it all in bell jar, lid light,
In marked detail , the love and laughter
Growing up at my feet, at my bosom for years
If you add them, all the days between the three
It would make one old child, but they are three
And will the words help bury memories, encase them in a time capsule
Just in case the mind and memory fade as it does and as it did for her
She says remember when you and how could I, barely I do, I barely recall
I the child she the mother of this obscure event, no event is unworthy of recording
All are worthy, all are worthy.
If I write and when I write may it be a doubled effort to recall
The smallest moments in their, our, this life.
Branding, blazing all the breathes in ink, in stone, the sacred ones
The what He gives, the what we take
No it is what we receive, and remember and offer back
By recording, all the moments in an effort
To remember.
She remembers the smallest detail from long long ago.
May I remember the smallest details from long long ago.
And begin to see through her eyes, a glimpse, a slant of how
She saw and how she sees
That is grace.
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Joining Emily at Imperfect Prose for her one word prompt this week…Mother.
elizabeth w. marshall 
Hi Elizabeth
Thanks for making it a visit full of mystery from Emily’s!! Beautiful! Yes, if we can only see the way they do and, perhaps, if they can see the way we do, how different life would be!!
Much love XX
Mia
Mia, thanks for being here. Yes, oh that I would have eyes to see the other view. Eyes of understanding , compassion and more mercy. Always more mercy. Thanks sweet one for visiting here.
This makes me think of my mother who is aging with dementia and memory loss and oh it is sad. I see the bad mom becoming the small frail mom when grace and compassion move in beside me as we sit in the same room.
Yes Sharon, my mom has dementia and it has its challenges. But we do see some sweet blessings in the again of the mind too. More than I can go into here. But friend, I hear you… I am praying for grace and compassion love and patience and a tender heart toward mine. Thank you for speaking into this with me.
When I was in bible college in 2000, my friend’s grandma lived on campus (her husband had been one of the dean’s and so they had provided a home for her after he passed away.). Her grandmother was struggling with alzheimer’s and most evenings her daughter looked after her, but there were some evenings that her daughter wasn’t available and some of us were asked to look after her. My friend Liz and I went over one evening to help her decorate her Christmas tree and just spend some time with her. She would always hold my hand when I arrived and get near my face and smile so delightedly and then lead me about pointing at things and nodding her head. When we went to put her into bed, we were reading a passage of psalms to her (it was where we found her book mark) and as we read she began to read and read through almost the whole passage in her lovely lilting Irish voice. It was shocking because we didnt’ know that she was able to talk at this time…but to hear the words from her lips being the word of God just made my heart so happy.
I worked with seniors for a bit. Several had dementia and several had alzheimers. Some of them (I was in CA at the time) were old enough to have stories of covered wagons. Some came in with tatoos from concentration camps. It was a painful, interesting job for a season. But, when they heard music from their youth, the years faded and they were alive and able to recall. Memories are interesting things. They bring to life all that is accompanied with them. Wonderful post, thank you. DAF
“A life gets blurred like watercolors on a canvas…”
“No event is unworthy of recording…all are worthy..all are worthy…”
These are beautiful, beautiful lines my friend. Keep dancing with your mother and you will hear glimpses of music once sung and it will be like heaven to your ears.
Yes, this is one reason we write.
So we won’t forget…
I dream a dream of capturing it all in bell jar, lid light,
LOVE this line, although it made me ache too. made my womb ache with some sense of loss.