I was talking to a friend from the list earlier this afternoon via
ICQ, and she was telling me how her father was becoming afraid of his own
reflection in the mirror. It brought to mind a humerous yet sad incident that
took place shortly after we brought mom home to live with us. For the "old
timers" I apologise for repeating the story. We had gone to one of the major
malls in our city and mom happened to stop and start talking to this lady she
saw. For several minutes she chatted very pleasantly, frequently nodding her
head in response to what ever was being said. As she turned to leave she said
to my wife, that the lady she was talking to was really nice, but seemed
rather hard of hearing. Mom had been talking to herself in the mirror in the Ladies
Clothing Dept. We were thankful that there was no one else there to see her.
That long ago memory prompted this poem.
In the last few days there has been much talk about the inability of their
loved ones to recognize themselves or others. There has even been the news
story about Ronald Reagan's failing memory. I felt compelled to offer up an
experience from mom's early days here in our home, and a poem, which I've
shared before. Shortly after we brought mom home to live with us, we took
mom with us one day to the mall. I took off another direction and let mom
and my wife head off into the women's dept. Later my wife told me that
while she was looking at some dresses, she heard mom talking to someone.
She walked over a couple of steps to get a closer look at mom. Mom was
talking cheerfully, nodding her head up and down. My wife stood there
watching her for a moment, cautiously looking around to see if anyone else
was watching also. After a few minutes she took mom by the arm and told her
that it was time to leave. As they were leaving that dept, mom told my wife
that the lady she was talking to was really nice but seemed to be really
hard of hearing. What mom did not realize was, she was talking to her own
reflection in the mirror.