Yesterday was my mother's birthday. This wee Irish lady who made me feel safe, who taught me much about life through a John Lennon song and more about God and prayer with her eyes open rather than closed.
I remember-she doesn't. Alzheimers has stolen her memory, but not her Irish soul that still twinkles through like angel rays.
I remember fresh baked soda bread with warm butter running down my arms. I remember impromptu Irish jigs in the kitchen and her lessons on juggling. I remember love.
Now, I could walk down the hall of the nursing home and she would pass right by me not knowing I am hers-but I know. Thanks Ma.