My mom is 92 years old. She is very ill. I am visiting her this week.
I look at her and my heart breaks. When I was a teenager I always thought of her as a strong and vital woman.
Today, as I gaze at her laying so ill in her hospital bed, she looks as tiny as an eight year old child. My mother. My mama. I remember her words, "You must serve the man." I always rebelled at such thoughts. I wanted to be "That Girl." I didn´t want to serve the man.
I held her hand. She gazed at me, pure love in her eyes. "Beautiful. You are so beautiful." she whispered, words barely leaving her lips.
I wondered, "Who she was looking at?" I was the only one in the room and I was sleepless, no makeup and no hair in place.
"Mama. Mama. I love you." Is all I could respond. I stroked her hair and saw a shining light in her eyes.
Since her strokes last year, she has reverted to the mind of a small child, but she is still my beautiful Mama.
I kept thinking back to the days when she said, "Serve the man." I always took her words so literally. When I think about them now, I have to think there was so much more to her words.
When I think of her relationship with Dad, she was never subservient. Of course she cooked, tended house and cared for all of us children, but she and Dad were in love. They were always equal. Equal!!
My beautiful Mama, so strong all of her life, now laying here so fragile in her bed.