She says the year is 1965. She says she has three children, ages 10, 9 and 8.
Did I ever tell you about your name?
Yes, Mom, you got it from Canterbury Tales.
That's the spelling, with one el, that's the proper way to spell your name. Did I ever tell you why I named you Alison?
No, I guess not. I'm puzzled. Honestly, I always envisioned her reading the story and liking the name.
Turns out that my Grandmother's best friend had a daughter named Alison. Mom says it out loud in her memory of the girl, Alison Coleman. When I was a little girl, I loved the name. I always knew I wanted to one day have a daughter and name her Alison.
This I had not heard before. I smile at her, picturing her as a child, and picturing myself with her. In the minute I feel chosen, feel that I've known her that long, that as a young girl, she was reaching out to me in her future. And somehow my own hand today reaches back to her young self in the past. It's warm in my heart. I lean over to her, kiss her on her cheek.
For good measure, and as a nod to the little girl she used to be, I kiss her on the cheek again.
I love you, Mom.
She smiles at me, I love you too, Alison.
3 comments:
one word, my friend. wow.
Your mother gave you a precious piece of herself in telling you that memory; one of these days, it'll keep you warm when you need it most.
I have visited your blog a couple of times, and am always touched by your candor and beautiful writing. I have a friend, named Anne, who has lost three grandparents to Alzheimer's and has one dying in a home now. Her mother is currently in hospice, thankfully not with this wretched disease. I've often wondered whether the hepatitis, though painful, is really some sort of a blessing, considering that she has already shown some of the first signs of "fading" as Anne eloquently calls it. Thank you for sharing.
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