"Let's go!" she yelled.
"What'd you say?" I asked as I went to see what my elderly Mother meant by that, fearing that she may have gotten her appointments mixed up. It's starting to occur more frequently to my 86 year old Mother. Her memory is fading and it's scaring us both.
This career woman whose once loud clickety-clack of high heels across the floor still echoes throughout these halls now shuffles along, cane in hand, eyes on every single frail step she takes.
"It's time to go, Susan!" she said.
Oh, my. How can I frame this delicately? I know she'll be embarrassed that she's gotten the time mixed up and I hate to hurt her fragile feelings this way.
"Mother, it's almost 11:00 and your hair appointment isn't until 1:00," I say, looking into the huge blue eyes that generations of blue eyes have followed.
I have those same big eyes. My son and daughter have those same eyes. Even my grandson has those same big blue eyes.
"I'm thinking about church, aren't I?" she recalled.
"Yes, you are, Mother. Now take your coat off and sit a spell, my dear. We have 2 more hours to kill," I say with a smile.
I feel the sting of embarrassment radiating from this once proud woman but in this quiet acknowledgment of fading years we both know there's nothing we can do to quell it.