This is another post in a series, about a woman named Amara. Every Friday I will post another segment in this story.
“Uh, okay then Joy. It has been nice talking with you.” Amara stuttered the words from her mouth, in a robotic manner.
“Mom, did you hear what I said? I said that the doctor thinks that you are n the middle stages of Alzheimer’s disease. Do you understand this mom?”
Mom … she said it again, it was like music to Amara’s mother heart. Mother is a title, but mom … mom is a verb, one that says that is synonymous with love, and it is one that filled Amara’s heart with the hope of a new relationship with her daughter. Oh, any news could be good if Joy would just love her, and not just treat her humanely.
“Mom, I know this is difficult news to take. I could come over to your house if you would like, and we could search for information on the internet, or read through the pamphlets that Dr. Faw gave us, or I could just make you a hot milk, if you do not want to be alone.”
Joy almost sounded as though she did not want to be alone. She almost sounded as though she wanted to come over and just be with her mom. Amara’s hopes were rising at record speeds. “Well yes, Joy I would love for you to come over, bring the girls if they would like to come. We could have cookies, and … why don’t you bring an overnight bag? There are more than enough empty beds in this house.’
“Okay mom, we will come, but the girls do have school tomorrow, so it cannot be a late night for them.” Joy was sounding excited about coming over, Amara knew that is what she heard in her voice.
“Just come, darling, I will have everything ready when the three of you arrive.” Amara knew the excitement in her voice was not appropriate for Joy’s sadness, but she could not reign her anticipation in.
As the phone line went dead, Amara hung her receiver up, and sat there, just absorbing the hope of Joy needing her again, of Joy wanting her again.
Amara began to daydream of the last time she remembered feeling that way. Amara had taken Joy for a picnic in the wooded area just up the road from where they lived, where Amara still lives. She had packed a lunch of tuna salad sandwiches (Joy’s favorite), and cookies. They had wandered through the giant trees for almost an hour, to the clearing that Amara knew so well.
It was there, in the clearing, that her husband, John, had proposed to her. He had packed a picnic lunch too … well, his mother and sisters had packed the lunch. He and Amara had wandered through the wooded area, hand in hand … oh, how delightful it felt to have her hand encapsulated by his large, protective hand. When they reached the clearing, it was the most beautiful sight that Amara had ever seen. The sun shining through the trees, to this cleared out space of green and daisies … oh, so many daisies! He lay down a blanket, and set the picnic basket on it’s corner. Then he took Amara’s hand, and led her to the blanket, and they sat, and ate, and laughed, and smiled. Oh, what a beautiful smile he had, it could lighten up any dark day. And then, right there, with the sun cascading through the trees, he proposed to her. Amara remembered his words, “I want to marry you, and I want to build a house for us to live in with the children we will have, just down the road from here, so that we can come here anytime life gets tough, and we can remember how we started, with hope and love and sunshine on our faces.”
And Amara said, “yes.”
So when Amara brought Joy here that beautiful spring day, to have a picnic, they laughed, and smiled and ate their picnic on the big blanket. They sang, first silly songs, but then ones they both recalled from Sunday School. Then Joy got up from her spot and sat in front of her mother. She looked deep into Amara’s eyes, her own more serious than Amara had ever seen her young daughter’s eyes. She looked at her mother, then smiled and said, “Mom, you are the most boo-ti-ful in the world. I love you, even more than tuna sandwiches.” Then she wrapped her arms tightly around Amara’s neck, and there they sat, in a mother daughter embrace for the longest time.
The next thing Amara knew, Joy was flying out of her arms, and dancing and singing “You are My Sunshine” as the sunlight lit Joy up like an angel covered in a gossamer cloak. She twirled in the sunlight, taking joy in how her skirt would rise and spin with her body. Joy and Amara smiling brightly, a moment of beauty and intimacy, that they would not share again.
Then Amara felt a cool breeze, that was growing colder by the second. The image of Joy dancing in the sunlight was fading away, being left with dark, so dark, and so cold. Amara shivered uncontrollably and opened her eyes. She was outside, and it was night. The moon was shining directly down on her, and she did not know where she was.
itsawonderfilledlife 
[…] Unfading – Part 7 […]