Guidance

I sat with her Sunday. She reached for, grabbed for my hand. She held it, let it go, grabbed the fresh strawberries and grapes I brought her, fed herself, then rested her hand in mine. A moment later, she shook my hand loose and rested her hand on her stomach. A moment later, back to the fruit. Again and again the pattern.

Cheyenne was there. Cheyenne licked her face and Mom giggled while pushing Cheyenne away. That she giggles, even when inconvenienced, gives me joy.

Last night she stood before me in the hallway of her new home. She wore a blue and white striped, boat neck shirt, blue pants, her blue Sperry Topsider shoes. She spoke. I was sleeping when she arrived, very groggy, asked her, Mom, what are you doing?

She said she wanted to talk to me.

Nothing serious, just talk. Normalcy.

She was standing there before me, wearing blue and white. Her posture straight, her hair fixed, her image the same as in my heart. She was magical and impossible.

We stood face to face, mother to daughter. I questioned how she was standing. How'd you do it Mom? All of a sudden! She questioned why I would ask. I heard her. This wasn't real but I went along for the ride.

It was so easy, that ride. Who wouldn't want to see her mother standing?

It was a good dream, good to see her, hear her talking. Shocking though, surprising. Then accepting and warm and exciting.

Look at you! You can walk again. You can talk again!

I have no map for this journey I am on. I can only tell you that when she visits me in my dreams, when she comes calling, I believe I get a glimpse of the path along which she wants me to stroll with her, to lead her. I get a glimpse of her life and my life. I don't know where we are going, how could I know? But she shows me the way, she does. She takes my hand and makes our hands golden, she locks her cinnamon eyes to my heart, to my care. And I have no idea how, but with her, I know the way.