Knowing I'd hit a sore spot, I changed the subject. "How often are you out of town?"

"More than I should. I'm trying to cut down. Usually I'm away half the month but I make a point to be there for the kids for important dates and holidays. We do things together." He sounded defensive. Then he asked, "How was your growing up?"

"Perfect," I answered, surprising myself at the haste and preciseness of my response. I added, "I mean it. My sister and I were my parents 'life. We did everything together and were friends, confidants, playmates and a family. We all loved each other with a passion and would do anything for one other." I looked over at him but he just smiled. "That's the truth, no matter how corny it sounds. I wouldn't change a thing about my childhood." Paul must have wondered if my growing up years were so idyllic why I remained estranged from my mother and sister but he was too polite to ask.

"Do you want to stop by and see your sister before we visit the nursing home?" he asked.

"God, no! I'm supposed to be in Virginia and I'm far too tense to do all the explaining a drop-in visit would entail." I knew my reason was more complicated. I loved my sister dearly and after her soul-baring conversation I was ready and anxious to revive our stalled relationship. However, our reunion called for an in depth discussion, especially about our mother's care, not a quickie visit.

As we approached our destination Paul recognized I was a bundle of nerves and suggested we stop for coffee. I readily agreed.

"Sarah, you're a nervous wreck," he said from across the table. "Calm down and be yourself."

I took a deep breath and senselessly stirred my black coffee. "I know you're right. I'm doing something I should have done years ago. My mother deserved far more than I gave her." I felt a wave of affection. He didn't quiz me with questions I couldn't answer. Instead, he left me alone with my demons. We tarried for twenty minutes in silence before returning to the car.

"She won't even know me," I said, as if it were an indisputable fact instead of my cowardly wish. "Suzie says she has days without recognizing anyone," I added, trying to desperately bolster my nonexistent confidence. "When I faint, will you please drag me out the door so I don't scare all the patients into having a heart attack?"

The facility was smaller and much nicer than I expected. My mind's picture of a nursing home conjured up an overcrowded facility with wheelchair-choked aisles of half-sleeping figures all looking uniformly resigned to their upcoming appointment with the grim reaper. Here, even the usual medicinal smell was absent, replaced with fresh flowers while residents chatted with one another and the attendants actually smiled. The place was downright cheery. My emotions did a flip-flop. The brave but subconscious part of me wanted my mother to be alert and her old self while my cowardly side prayed for a sleeping figure who would not call her daughter to task for her twenty-year absence.




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