A friendly woman at the desk directed us to Mrs. Blanding's room at the far end of the building. When I inquired about her condition, I was told with a smile that my mother had "good days and bad days." Today's condition wasn't specified. With mounting trepidation we made our way down a long corridor as I peeked in partially open doors. Not all the guests were up and about. Some were confined to hospital beds and some snoozed in chairs. At the door to my mother's room I took a deep breath as Paul put his hand in mine. He smiled as he moved me forward, as if I was about to bolt if he'd not held me tightly.
My mother sat in a rocker by the window, a book in her hands. While her frail body was but a fraction of what I'd last seen I recognized her immediately. She looked up at our entrance but didn't speak. Paul squeezed my hand tightly.
"Hello, Mom," I managed in a quivering voice that sounded as nervous as I felt. There was no response for what seemed like minutes as she continued to stare at us. I was sure she didn't recognize me but finally she answered.
"Hello, Sarah Jeanne. Suzie said you might visit." I couldn't help myself. I burst into tears and put my arms around her frail shoulders. "It's been a while," she added as she tentatively returned my embrace.
When I was able to compose myself, I stepped back to look at this woman I loved so dearly. What in God's name was wrong with me to stay away so long? While she'd certainly aged . . . after all, she was eighty-two . . . and had lost weight, the woman I so dearly remembered was sitting before me. Her smile and her eyes remained unchanged.
I nervously rambled away about how nice she looked and the pleasantness of her surroundings, adding a few other inane babbles while her eyes remained fixed on me, as if examining this prodigal visitor to her private world. She didn't interrupt my blather nor did she appear to notice Paul who stood politely by the door.
"Mother, this is Paul North," I said, and not knowing how else to describe him added, "He's a friend I recently met . . . at Michael's wedding."
Paul stepped forward and took her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Blanding. You've raised a fine daughter."
My mother smiled. "Sarah is a very good girl. When I lost my husband she took care of me until she let Douglas take her away. She was much younger then. Sometimes she does naughty or thoughtless things. All good girls do. She hasn't visited for a long time." I started to apologize but my mother put her finger to her lips shushing me. "Yes, of course you're forgiven but I'll have to think of a proper punishment." She turned to Paul. "Both of my girls are the delight of my life, but quite different. Do you know Suzanne?"