Its 3 a.m. and my 99-year-old mother is calling for me.
Physically, she is fine.
Mentally, its as if her mind has been abducted by an alien.
I check to see if her diaper is dry and stretch out beside her.
I tell her she is safe in her bed and to go back to sleep.
As her breathing shifts, my mind revisits the mom who raised me so many decades ago.
And that is what keeps me going.
She did the grocery shopping, cleaned the house, prepared the meals, all with a smile.
The only difference was she did not wear a skirt and heels throughout the day.
Im not sure why the bread.
Hewasour breadwinner, but I think it had more to do with love than money.
It was a joyful time with few worries.
I grew up imagining I would have the same life.
And that my mom would always be there to guide my sister and me through any difficult times.
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1960s: Peace, Love and Lobster
I wasnt an easy teenager.
During those years she was mom, a constant in my life.
She was the typist, my rock and my biggest fan.
Because of that unconditional love, I took all my teenage angst out on her.
