Wish On May

“Hi mom,” I said as happily as I could, for her benefit. I opened her bedroom door further to let myself in. She sat in her rocking chair by the window, a book of poems in her lap. Her honey colored hair loosely pulled into a low bun, small pieces framing her face. Her lips were pulled tightly across her face, a pink tint to them. Her sea-foam green eyes flickered over to me, life dancing behind them. Today was a good day. “You look good today; did you pick that dress out yourself?”

“Of course I did, I'm not a three year old, May. It looks like it might rain, I think we should head out to the gazebo and read a bit. Enjoy the nature.” Her face brightened with every word, I could tell she wanted this more than anything. I loved that she was happy, but I hated knowing that tomorrow would be different. She wouldn't remember.

“Alright, how about we pack some breakfast too. Maybe some strawberries, Elizabeth brought them by a few days ago.” Mom stood, clasping the book in her hand, her fingers playing over the rough edges of the paper.

“Elizabeth stopped by? How come you didn't tell me?” Her brow slowly knit together, worry crossing her eyes. I sighed, the back of my hand running over my brow.

“She was in a rush, and you were napping. I completely forgot. I'm sorry.” I muttered quietly. Lying to her killed me. She was there when Elizabeth came over, they sat in the living room talking for an hour. It was another one of her good days. “You finish getting ready, mom. I'll go get the food ready.”

“Okay dear, I'll be down in a few.” I nodded slowly before leaving the room. In the kitchen I glanced at the calender the doctor had given me. I quickly pulled the blue pen out of the pencil cup on the counter, marking a small 'x' in the corner of today. Blue meant that day was a good day, black meant she was empty all together, and red was a bad day. I hated red days, those were the days she tried to kill herself, days she tried to kill me, days she was mad, and just full of emotion, days where she wasn't my mother. Black wasn't any better, but she wasn't all over the place either. I placed the pen back in the cup, and rushing about the kitchen grabbing containers for the strawberries and a few old water bottles for some blackberry tea, mom's favorite.

After placing everything in the basket, I glanced in the mirror, quickly braiding my messy hair. I glanced up the stairs, mom standing at the top, a big toothy grin on her lips. “You look beautiful, May. Why do you always try and change how you look?” I giggled before picking up the basket, and walking with her out the back door.

She linked her fingers with mine as we walked down the stone pathway towards the gazebo. Not much longer then twenty minutes had we reached our spot, the spot my mom fell in love with my dad. Their love was strong, but short with his passing a month after I was born. “Today was a good day.”

“It was, I'm glad you were up to going outside today. It's been awhile since we've been out here.” I said, smiling at the slightly dilapidated white gazebo, wildflowers bursting in patches all over it and the field it sat in.

“What are you talking about May? We just came out here last week. Have you been away in your own little world again?” Her voice was tired, as if I was the one who had to be taken care of, and she was exhausted from having chairs thrown at her every few days. She sat down on the steps of the gazebo, her bare feet placed in the soft Tennessee grass. I dropped the basket next to her with a loud thud. “Don't pull an attitude with me, Mabeline, I am still your mother and you are still the child.”

“That's not how it normally is. Normally you sit in your stupid rocking chair reading a dumb poetry book all day, then just lay down to start the same thing again tomorrow. The you, you are right now is maybe twice a month anymore, I'm lucky lately if I get the vacant you. Normally you're throwing things at me or trying to jump out your window. I'm not ready to handle being a mother to my mother. I'm just a child like you said. I hate that you have Alzheimer's and dementia!” I yelled, my eyes starting to blur with tears.

I didn't want to ruin a good day, but I'd finally snapped. I loved my mom, she was my best friend, but I couldn't handle her not knowing me ninety percent of the time. Her eyes narrowed, the wrinkles in her face deepening, making her look older than thirty going on thirty-one next month.

“If it's so horrible having a freak for a mother, put me away. It would be better then having an unloving child like you. Screw this, I don't need you making my decisions for me, I'll go call the place my self. Have fun in foster care!” She yelled back as she stopped through the thick grass to the path.

“Mom, please don't, I didn't mean it!” I called back starting towards her.

“Get away from me! I hate you you awful child!” She screamed, the veins in her throat and forehead popping out. She turned and continued marching towards the house. I turned to go back to the gazebo, only to slip on the dewy grass.

“I didn't mean it mom. I swear.” I wiped at the tears that slipped from my eyes like rivers. I glanced up at the sky, the Grey, dismal clouds swirling about anxiously. They slipped and dipped, tiny tears falling from them. “I'm sorry,” I whispered to the heavens. The clouds parted for a minute second, the yellowy light falling on the grass and flowers around me. I wiped at the last few tears, my heart clenching on a dandelion. I hadn't seen a whole one since I was small. I gently picked it up, bring it closely to my lips.

“I wish I may, I wish I might, I wish my mother would be alright....” I whispered quietly before blowing on it, the tiny pieces bursting into life. I felt someone sit down behind me before wrapping their tiny arms around me. Her head rested on my shoulder, her breath thick on my cheek.

“I'm sorry, May.”

“I'm sorry too, mom.”