i was just a few minutes late calling my mom today. most days she really doesn’t know the time, so i didn’t think it would matter. today she could not figure out how to answer the phone. “hello, hello, hello, pronto,” my mother said screaming into the phone.

“Mom, hello! hello! hello!!!” silence followed. i thought if this is the day my mom doesn’t remember who i am, i will… i mean i don’t know what i would do. the connection on the phone ended. i waited to see if she would call back. hopefully she remembered who i was and would dial me back. nothing.

i dialed my mother’s number. she answered. “Mom, i tried calling you. could you hear me?”

my mom said with a faint low voice, “did you hear me? i didn’t hear you.”

“so you knew i called?”

my mom’s strengthened some, “of course i knew it was you. who else would it be?”

Despite her diseased mind, she remembered that every evening it was always me on the other end of the call. as always, we talked about the only things i thought were safe to talk about: food and the weather. the weather was cold and windy we both agreed. she confirmed she ate something my dad cooked.

then she threw out of nowhere “the socks you gave me for christmas are so warm. they are the best socks. warm and just above the knee. the way i always wore them.”

she remembered the socks I bought her. This is the first short term thing she has remembered in months. my eyes teared up as i responded, “i am so glad you like the socks mom. i am so truly happy about that.”

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i am a first generation italian-american who grew up in southern new jersey. Life is amazingly beautiful and devastating. Sometimes in the same day.

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adriana suriano

adriana suriano

i am a first generation italian-american who grew up in southern new jersey. Life is amazingly beautiful and devastating. Sometimes in the same day.

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