My daughter is gone. I sit at this peaceful place she made for herself and wish she’d come home. I miss her so much. John tells me again that the woman standing in the doorway is my daughter, and that he is my son.
Oh, John, you know our son is just a baby. And who is this woman who has taken over my kitchen? My home? My husband?
I listen to the two of them downstairs. I hear them talking, laughing, watching television together.
They can’t fool me. I know who my my own daughter is.
And she’s gone.
This week’s writing prompt is such a pleasant picture. And yet something compelled me to explore, not the way we lose memory, but the gradual way we begin to lose our own lives. The way our past can seem like soft water, slipping through our fingers when we try to cup and hold it. How fiercely we fight to keep the past we remember, and how the very act of trying seems to let it slip away.
If you’d like to join the fun, go check out the prompt for Friday Fictioneers at Rochelle Wisoff-Fields‘ blog. Write your own story, post it online, then click on the frog and add your story so we can all read it. I’ll see you there!
Genie in a Box: Words and thoughts from Eugenia Parrish, Author 
Oh you captured the sorrow of the loss of memory so well!
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Thank you, Nicole. It’s frightening and heartbreaking at the same time. Here’s hoping we’ll develop some help somehow.
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sad story. looks like she’s suffering from dementia.
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I think I had Alzheimers in my mind; I’m not sure I understand the difference between the two. I should research more before I write any more. But both are unbelievably sad. Thanks for reading.
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Dementia is such a cruel illness, your writing described that so well
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Thank you, Michael. I appreciate you saying so.
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What a sad story. You’ve conveyed the way in which our memory tries to make sense of things – and can become totally convinced of things that aren’t true. More importantly, you’ve shown the pain that can accompany a failing memory, the sadness and the difficulties.
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Thank you for the wonderful words. I tried to show how, though it’s hard for the rest of us, it’s heartbreakingly hard for them too.
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Aww, full of pathos. Well written for the effect achieved.
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Oneta, thank you so much for your comments. As you can guess, this has background in my life.
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Yes, I had a mother-in-law with that confusion.
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It’s hard to deal with, but sometimes people don’t realize it’s hard for them too. I was visiting my mother in the nursing home, sitting in the dining room, and the aide brought in a man to visit another woman. The aide brightly asked the woman, “Do you know who this is?” The woman tried but didn’t recognize him (it was her son). I remember that while it was tough on the man, my heart bled for the mortification and anguish on the woman’s face. She knew she was hurting him but didn’t know why.
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This one got my tears flowing.
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Sorry about that. But thanks for reading.
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You’re welcome, Eugenia.
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Oh this is so sad. Beautifully written. Age and time and memory loss are terrible things.
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Thanks, laurie. It’s hard to deal with, but sometimes people don’t realize it’s hard for them too. I was visiting my mother in the nursing home, sitting in the dining room, and the aide brought in a man to visit another woman. The aide brightly asked the woman, “Do you know who this is?” The woman tried but didn’t recognize him (it was her son). I remember that while it was tough on the man, my heart bled for the mortification and anguish on the woman’s face. She knew she was hurting him but didn’t know why.
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Yes it is so so hard, on those left behind and on those who lose everything. 😭
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We are the stories we tell outselves, and the ability to keep our stories straight is fundamental, as you show to merging them with other people’s storiex
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Thanks, Neil. I remember realizing how hard it is, not just for the loved ones, but for the person affected. We know something’s wrong, but is it us or them?
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Dear Genie,
This is simply heartbreaking. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you so much, Rochelle. I appreciate your comments more than I can say.
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I feel for this poor woman.
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Thank you. I wasn’t sure I conveyed her distress, but everyone seems to have caught it.
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Ow! If I understood how to use emojis, I’d put in the tear one.
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Thanks, Heidi. I didn’t want to make it maudlin, but somehow it grew.
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