Aging Youth

I woke up in tears from this dream sadly realizing that it is becoming more of a reality.

The entire family is sitting in her living room. The very first place we truly called "home" in the United States. Serious faces, no laughter. Not like our usual get-togethers anymore. She sits calmly in a chair in the corner, small and frail, wrapped in a pink bathrobe. Almost in a daze, she looks up at the white ceiling and dozes off.

I just watch her, recalling the days in which she would boast about how strong she was and how powerful her memory continued to be. A religious woman who followed tradition as if it were the only way and now she sits, unable to move without assistance as her thoughts leave her one by one. I wonder why it is that the two things she prided herself on the most were being taken away from her like a spoiled brat torn from their favorite toy.

Her five daughters pay no attention to her. Her youngest son leads the discussion of what is to become of her as if it were some kind of business meeting. Almost all of them were ready to let her go. Having to discuss when and where they could arrange “watching” her. As adults, they act like children. Whining that a moment with their mother would interfere with their schedules and yet they find it surprising that she would not want to be anywhere else besides with her eldest son.

He leaves the circle and does what he does best, takes care of things that need to be taken care of: making sure she is still breathing. Her body helplessly plops down into his arms. He catches her in shock that this time no air entered her lungs. The others slowly stood up, hands covering their mouths. Fake tears start to form on their faces.

Then she starts to shrink. Her skin carefully smoothing out the wrinkles of age, her gray hair sheds revealing her regained youth. Nobody reacts. In a matter of minutes, there in the corner chair, on top of the pink bathrobe, lies a baby.

The daughters rejoice. Each one wants to take turns holding this beautiful, innocent child as if it were their own. The youngest son puts down his notepad and walks over.

Real life somehow found its way into these dead souls.

When at her worst, she is abandoned with the son she deemed as the “black sheep," the only one she remembers while the rest are just strangers in a strange place she used to call “home.”
They discarded her as an old woman as if in fear that this will become their fate with time, yet they embraced her youth as if the slightest touch could turn back the clock.

Her eldest son chose to face the facts as he quietly leaves the room, mourning the loss of their mother.

Age is inevitable.