Thoughts of a Caregiver
I tried so hard, but you were too fast, clicking gracefully on high heels down the
shady block, laughing at me plodding in saddlebacks: Can't you keep up?
I tried so hard, but you were too slow, stumbling to a wobbly halt as your walker
scraped the harsh lobby floor, so the elevator doors slammed shut, and we had
to endure double the long wait plus the nurse's low-keyed promptness lecture.
Once you bought for me, in the wooded park, a cheerful red balloon. You
warned: Hold it tight, don't let it go. I obeyed till we reached our back yard, which
I thought was safe, and then it slipped from my sweaty child's hand.
Up, up it went, evading the trees, hovering between rooftops, red no longer, then
disappearing from view, me crying, you consoling.
You have sparkled like a precious gem, mostly turquoise and sapphire, in happy
warm sunshine. I simply can't force myself to accept the boldly affirmative,
serenely vivid colors of you fading away to wan pastel, off-white, off-black, off-
gray, nothing.
Frantically I clutch and hug, scolding, cajoling, praying, vainly trying to hide my
despair and frustration, to filter out the rage from the devotion.
I can't whisper to reach you; you won't hear me. Nor can I shout; a raised voice
invariably means anger. I am muzzled very well. My brain shrieks silently.
You watch me intently, your fine mind intact, deep in thought, before you doze.
You wake from your apathetic nap in pain, a defiant fighter, and, God forgive me, I
briefly welcome that pain for restoring your animation.
There! I just felt warm sunshine, saw a flash of turquoise and sapphire.
Now it's over. We both want you so much to be yourself, but you're pastel again!
I wish I could turn myself into a balloon, red, rubbery and soft, fastened to a
string, pushed into your slack hand. I want to yell: Hold me tight, don't let me go!
We'd jump over the skyscrapers, then over the piedmont, skirting the green tops
of magnolias and pines,
Then soar ever higher, mingling with fluffy clouds in pure vibrant infinite blue;
No more clumsy saddlebacks for me, no more scraping walkers for you,
Just us two, mother and runaway red balloon child, euphorically drifting off
Toward freedom.
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