A tether is a connection of a mobile thing to an immobile thing
to limit the movement of the movable part of the pair.
The irony of this description is not lost on me.
Rose was prevented from flying away and I was immobile.
I am the heavy, the anchor, the immovable.
Who wants a heavy, immovable mother?
Who wants to be heavy and immovable?
Maybe I have been looking at this the wrong way.
I want to move, too. I want to fly, too.
I am still stationary long after my Rose bird has flown.
I am still here holding down an empty fort.
I am still here.
Still tethered by fear and habit and age.
I need to rise up. I need to look up.
I need to be free from the hanging, empty tether.
Free to be me.
A pregnant woman eats for two.
That is important, but not as complicated as remembering for three.
I spent the last four days with my family.
This included my daughter, Rose, and my mother.
We can be called forgetting, forgetful and forgotten.
My mother is 87. She is forgetting the present. Her past is perfect.
I am 52 again. I am very distracted by life. I am forgetful.
Rose has spent most of her life on anti-seizure medications.
Most of those drugs did not stop her seizures, but did stop her memory.
Much of her childhood is forgotten..or remembered incorrectly.
It is hard to be me…remembering for three.
But we have each other right now. We have now.
That is worth remembering.
It has stayed in its envelope.
We move it about.
“Put is somewhere.” he says, “It will get bent.”
It is our church directory portrait without Rose.
She was away at the university.
We three went to pose for our family portrait.
But our family has four.
It is a photo of my worst fear.
The three of us with no Rose.
This photo is lovely,
but it will never find a frame.
Rose called to ask if she could go on a trip with friends.
My fear wanted to say “No.”
My mind was thinking: it is too far away, it is a strange place, I do not know these friends…
I kept my lips silent.
I will not share my fears with Rose. She fights her own fears.
We must be brave, Rose and I.
Caution is smart, fear is stupid.
Caution says maybe, but fear says no.
Rose has heard enough “No’s.”
I will not let fear speak for us.
I will not say no.
I will let Rose go
on her first trip with friends at age 26
to a new place far away from her mama.
It is time.
Rose is ready.
I have a sneaky seizure snake
coiled in the back of my mind.
It stays put most of the time.
Sometimes it strikes
with electrical venom
and shocks my brain.
It slithers through my thoughts
and steals them.
I wish someone strong
could put a heal on the head
of this seizure snake.