Christmas Memories

There are no sadder words than I remember, because it usually means that's in the past, gone. We only can hold it in our minds. It was real, but no longer. And there is no going back.

Lately I've been writing Christmas cards to friends and relatives. Mom has been losing her mind, dementia. so in my card to her I say remember this, remember that. I do this hoping to wake her up and bring her back. Remember when you used to put the fudge in the garage to set. Remember the Christmas we all got bikes. Remember the Christmas we only got money because you were too sick to shop. I didn't want to remind Mom of the Christmas she came home from the hospital. Here, she said, I made this for you in occupational therapy. I opened a box. It was a wristband with my name stamped into the leather--except she had spelled it Jayne instead of Jane. That's not how I spell my name, I said. Mom looked confused. I forgot, she muttered. Then she said, It must be the shock treatments.

I can't remember what I did with the bracelet. I saved it for a long time. After a while things get lost. Yet I didn't stop remembering.