By Stephen Snyder
I said my goodbyes long ago. Her empty eyes stare past me. Sometimes she smiles. She searches for words that won’t come. She used to know me, but that was before the falls—the broken arm, the broken hip—this goddamn place.
We watch cartoons together. Mostly, she sleeps. I play old songs. She recognizes fewer and fewer. On good days we laugh, and I tease her—for her benefit or mine?
A nurse walks by and smiles. Mom smiles back. A reflex—nothing more. I walk from her room—
“Steve?” she yells.
A glimmer, maybe? I turn back.
She sleeps.
I found this story very moving, especially the flicker of hope at the end that she may be coming back to him.
Heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time.