Saturday, November 29, 2014


We gather around the kitchen counter, hands filled with dishes to share, greeting one another with hugs.
We move to the living room with glasses of wine, catching up, reconnecting, sharing stories.
She watches us, her smile masking the confusion. I can see it, feel it, and I struggle to relax.  
Let's get some dinner I suggest.  (I am learning to make statements instead of asking questions because it seems easier for her.)
I squeeze her hand when she says she hopes I will understand that she just needs to get back home.  Yes, I reply, I understand.
We have gathered on this day, in this place, for twenty five years but for her, it is all new, unfamiliar.
And I do understand.  
I wish we could all go back home.

1 comment:

the habit of being said...

so hard for you but i love that y'all are surrounding her with love.