Wide eyes begin to remember
by Chandra Hohmann
With childlike astonishment
Maybe now she’ll remember my name
And that the floor is not for sleeping
She opens her mouth and then—
…She looks away and mumbles something about the August sun.
It is mid-February
She is gone
I’ve lost her
This is my grandmother’s present and future
Perhaps it will be my mothers
Most days aren’t like this.
Most days she can take care of herself
And even when she gets my name mixed up she knows who I am
Always busy, always doing something.
They say it isn’t Alzheimer’s
As though this were some sort of miracle
It doesn’t change anything
It doesn’t bring her back
We sit around making helpful comments
Change your routine
Lower the medication
Eat more vegetables
They don’t change anything either
This is my grandmother’s future
And there is nothing I can do.