Enough to Miss Christmas

"Do you remember the property names too?" I asked. I was amazed at the level of her recall.

"Of course," she answered. "There were Pennsylvania Avenue, and Boardwalk, right on the corner . . . I remember all the names and the playing pieces too. Now that your father's gone, we'll have to retire the little car. You can still have the shoe and I'll take the thimble, and your sister Suzanne will have the canon. Paul can join us and Karen too."

I laughed. "Paul would be a whiz at Monopoly. That's what he does for a living."

Mother smiled. "Your father wasn't a very good player. I never could tell if he was letting you win of if he was naturally inept. He was much better at cards."

I didn't want to overstay our visit but before leaving, I asked if there was anything my mother needed. She requested reading material, mystery novels.

"I spotted a store on the road coming in," Paul said. "We'll be right back." We left and once in the car, Paul commented on how engaging my mother was. "I thought she'd be . . . senile. Instead, I met a delightful woman who has a wonderful sense of humor, and a great memory."

"I'm shocked. It's as if the mother I grew up with was resurrected from the grave. I don't know what to say. I haven't seen her like this since my father died. Her condition was nothing like my sister described." I was floating on a cloud.

"There are all sorts of new drugs and therapies. Let's be thankful for the visit and that she's so serene and lucid."

I touched his arm. We both knew the sole impetus for the trip was his not so subtle urging. "Thank you for pushing me into this meeting," I said.

We made our book purchases at a small store in town and returned to the care facility. My mother was still in her chair reading but as I approached her, a strange look came over her face. It took me a moment to realize she had no idea who I was. I was shocked for the second time in the day.

"You must be looking for Mrs. Olsen," she said. "Her room is down the hall."

"I'm your daughter," I blurted out.

"You're not my daughter Suzie and my other daughter never visits." She looked at Paul as if he too were a stranger. "You're the striking image of Mr. Baker. He'll be pleased to see you. He said his son was coming by." She resumed reading. I bit my lip and turned away to leave the room, unable to contain my tears. Paul approached my mother.