Ramblings

This is for Alphabe-Thurs, a favorite writing prompt. For letter R!

Marge could ramble now. Her short-term memory had deteriorated, and within the space of ten minutes she could relate the same story three times – about how she couldn’t find her glasses for anything, and then guess where they were? In her slipper. “They must have slipped off my bed….”

And her daughter, while whipping up an early dinner before her son’s soccer practice, would repeat her same response: “You shouldn’t put them on your bed, Mom. Put them on your table so you don’t wind up sitting on them.”

She felt guilty about making these daily phone calls while multitasking; folding laundry, while the pasta was boiling. While listening to one of her own son’s ramblings, the shortest story about some kid farting during carpet-reading time, into a drawn out mind-numbing tale, or about how many drops of water can fit on a penny.

“How many, Mom, do you know?” He was tugging on her shirt.

Marge had also grown quite hard of hearing, so her daughter knew that,  in the midst of her repetitive rambles, she would not even hear her multi-tasking conversations.

“No,” she answered. Cussing to herself. She’d overcooked the pasta while trying to match up socks.

“Guess where they were?” Her mother repeated again, from the phone cradled on her shoulder.

“Where?”

“32,” her son said.

“Thirty-two what?”

Under the bed.”

“Drops on a penny.”

“Are you still there?” She heard her mother calling – from the floor, where the phone had fallen from her shoulder as she tried to drain the pasta in the sink but missed, spilling the scalding water onto her bare feet.

 

 


About Sandra

Author;editor of The Woven Tale Press at thewoventalepress.net; mother; weaver
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10 Responses to Ramblings

  1. ~ Irene ~ says:

    It must be a real tragedy to lose one’s memories. A tragedy to the person, a tragedy to her loved ones.

  2. When my mother-in-law was going through this phase of dementia, I once asked her husband, in front of her, “How many times a day does Ruth ask you the same question?”

    She had a sudden moment of lucidity and snapped, “Don’t talk about me like that!”

    He was patient. He answered every question as though it were the first time, because he knew, to her, it was.

  3. Hilary says:

    Hi Sandra .. it must be so difficult – while retaining that calmness when all about you is careening in one direction or the other, with repetitive questions and answers … but I was so pleased to read about Carol’s father in law – an example to us all …

    With thoughts – great tale … Hilary

  4. pam says:

    Familiar territory for me with your story here Sandra. My father had dementia before he passed away, and my aunt is struggling with it. Dealing with it is both difficult, demanding, and worrying, and now my friends are entering the territory with their parents also.
    Your blog and Woven Tale Press are wonderful and I have recommended them to my daughter who has a Masters in Creative Writing.
    Good that I found you through Alphabe-Thursday and the letter R. I will certainly visit regularly!

    • Sandra says:

      Thank you, Pam. Glad we found each other! And yes if your daughter has a masters, congratulations to her! I love Alphabe thurs and haven’t been able to do it all summer but I find it gets the fictional juices running.

  5. Brenda says:

    This is one of those tidbits you want to go on. It was short but I found myself wrapping around the words and wondering what would come next.

  6. Stopping by the R posts, before we head into the S posts! A great rambling story to read…like Brenda…I could stay and read more…wondering what happens next…

    Blessings & Aloha!

  7. Kelly says:

    Sounds such a tragedy for a person o lose lucidity like that. Yet it happens.

  8. very nice. and engaging. as usual, entertaining writing, sandra….

  9. Rambling, ranting and raving…. These are all three realities around my house!

    Thanks for linking to the letter “R”…

    Remarkable post!

    A+

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