Mum’s by the glass door when I arrive. I smile at her
as a member of staff punches a code into a key pad and lets me in.
Frowning she leans her
head to one side and stares. The tension fades from her face and she beams. “Brenda.”
I wrap my arms round her. It’s good to feel her warmth. It’s
been too long. I release my hold and take her hand. Her once manicured painted
finger nails are chewed and free from polish. Besides regular trips to the
hairdressers having her nails done used to be her only beauty treat. I’ve
brought her favourite colour with me, blush pink, and a fragrant hand cream.
They’re in my handbag along with some coloured cellophane. She likes the
crinkly feeling on her fingertips and the crunching sound it makes when
squeezing it.
She swings our linked hands and says to a female resident, “This
is my sister Brenda.”
I’m not her sister but that she thinks I’m family is enough.
“Where shall we sit?”
Puzzled she looks around the entrance hall as if seeing it
for the first time. It’s large but surprisingly cosy with a couple of sofas and
chairs snuck against a mulberry coloured wall. There’s a table in the corner
housing a tree with slowly colour changing buds. It catches her eye and she
walks towards it.
“Shall we sit here?” I say pointing at the sofa by the fake
tree.
A puzzled look spreads across her face. I smile. Her eyes
fill with warmth and maybe recognition. Her gradual smile has me grinning. “Yes
Mum it’s me.”
She grips my hand a little tighter, “You came.”
“I did.”
“I’ve missed you sis,” she says.
Mum hasn’t remembered me for a few years. I’ve accepted it
but there’s a spark of hope that ignites every time she’s pleased to see me.
Perhaps this is the moment where she, we connect again. But it never is. She
used to phone me more than once a week, sometimes daily. It irritated me. I was
busy. But what I wouldn’t do to have those calls again. The phone call early on
my birthday to sing Happy Birthday to me before I leave for work. “I’ve missed
you too.”
