Visit

I walked into the room and she was sitting in her chair. I always thought she was a beautiful woman when I was growing up and even now, she was still beautiful. I was amazed at how long her hair had gotten, almost to her waist. She had not had long hair like that since before she married. I remember her telling me that she cut it after she had turned 18. In her later years, she kept it very short and permed. I can still remember the smell of the perm when I would come home from school and I would immediately know that my Aunt Caroline was visiting. Aunt Caroline was my great grandmothers sister. They always got together and did each other's hair. She was a kind lady with beautiful fully white hair. I always wanted hair like hers.

"Hi Moma!"

She looked at me and smiled

"Hi honey, how are you? I have not seen you in a bit"

It hit me, the same beautiful woman, the same smile, the same voice. It had been almost five years since I had visited my mom. The distance had not been kind on being able to visit more than I had.

I sat down near her and we chatted. She talked about "the old days" and I listened. I had spent my entire childhood sitting on the floor near her feet listening to her stories and how she grew up. I was just as enthralled now as I was then. 

I managed to find a hairbrush and as we chatted I brushed her hair. I asked if I could braid her hair and she agreed. Her mom did this for her every night before bed. All of her sisters got their long hair brushed, 100 strokes, then braided. The next night the braid was taken out, their hair brushed and re-braided. So I felt I needed to do this for her. I was amazed at how beautiful her hair was and I enjoyed the moment to do for her as she had done for me all those years.

We talked about her children, her parents, her neighbors, her friends, her brothers and sisters. I simply sat there listening and occasionally asking questions. It was about seeing her face, hearing her voice, seeing her smile. It brought my heart joy to experience this, to feel it once again. It had been to long. I melted  into her hug and I felt like a small child again in the arms of my mom. I felt safe and the world became less scary, less hurtful. 

All to soon it was time for me to go. She had become tired and anxious. I found it hard to say goodbye. It would be a long time before I would be able to visit her again and that broke my heart.

I told her I loved her and missed her. Another hug, a kiss on the cheek and I tried to walk out the door without looking back but I could not stop myself. I glanced back at her, watching her sitting at the doorway of her hospital room in her wheelchair waiting for her brother to come back to get her. He would be there any minute. The baby dolls, her children were wrapped nice and tight in their blankets in her lap. Her new children, I did not know these children. It was a good day for her, it is not always so. 

I tried to imprint in my brain every detail of my visit. How she looked, what color her clothes was, her smile, her voice, her smell. I needed this.....and She had no idea who I was. That I was her granddaughter that she adopted as her daughter when I was about 18 months old. The little girl who wanted to do all boy things when she had struggled to teach me to become a woman. The little girl who was nosey, meddlesome and always into some kind of mischief. The little girl who became was teenager that kicked everyone out into the yard just so she could turn her music up, grab a scrub brush, soap and water and scrub the entire kitchen floor on hands and knees. The little girl that gave the first great grandchild, who later gave the first great great grandchild, went through two divorces, almost lost a child, she had no idea who this woman standing before her was but I knew who SHE was. She was my grandmother, my mother, my friend, my hero and even though she forgot me, I had not forgotten her.