AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I grab a blanket from the closet, then carefully pull it over Katie.
Emmie is sleeping peacefully, so I turn up the white noise machine and walk out of the room.
Dani is lying on the couch, a blanket pulled over her, and though I don’t want to disturb her, I also want to apologize. Squatting down next to her, I rub her arm.
She jolts awake, then blinks a few times before sitting up. “Everything okay?”
“Not really,” I say, coming to sit beside her. I snuggle under the blanket with her and rest my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
She chuckles and shakes her head, wrapping an arm around me. “You get a free pass.”
“No, I don’t. Because you’re my best friend, and I wouldn’t be who I am without you. You were the first person to chip away at my walls and pick my locks. I love you for that. I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate that. I love you too.” She pops a kiss on the side of my head. Then she sniffs. “Miles, what are you making?”
His deep laugh bounces through the kitchen. “Gnocchi mac and cheese with plenty of garlic.”
Dani’s eyes widen. “Oh my god. Send Jesse the recipe!”
He laughs again. “Will do.”
“Gnocchi mac and cheese. Brilliant.”
I laugh as I rest my head on her shoulder again. I’ve lost a lot in my life, but I’ve gained a lot too. In this season of uncertainty, I’m going to hold on to that.
“Thanks again,” I say as the physical therapist leaves the room.
“How are you feeling?” Miles asks, running his hands down my arms.
“We have a clearer picture now. Maybe not exactly what I want, but I’m choosing to accept it for what it is.” The evaluations with the speech, occupational, and physical therapists helped clarify the damage done by the stroke and how much function she might regain.
As the doctor last night predicted, they think she’ll likely need to be primarily in a wheelchair, but they’ll work to get her walking with a walker for short distances at least.
Her speech was garbled and, at times, nonsensical for the speech therapist. She thinks that they’ll be able to work to get her ability to speak improved, but there’s a good chance she may not recover consistent ability to talk. That’s the hardest part for me. Even when it didn’t make sense, I liked hearing her voice. I’m sad it was ripped away so suddenly, but I’m grateful for all the videos I’ve taken of her with Emmie over recent months. I’m going to be sure to save copies of them and all the videos of my dad, so I never lose those pieces of either of them.
The speech therapist also said she’ll need to be on a puréed diet for the time being, but may be able to have some soft and chopped foods as she recovers. She needs assistance with everything right now, but the occupational therapist hopes to get her back to feeding herself some things and hopefully hold a pencil or marker to draw, since doodling soothed my mother in the past.
Parts of her are still in there. I see it in her eyes. She’s more disoriented than her previous normal, but I think some of that is the situation too. Time will tell.
She closed her eyes again the moment the physical therapist was finished. With a squeeze to Miles’s hand, I walk over to my mother’s bed. Wrapping my hand gently around her arm, I lean down and kiss her forehead.
Her eyes flash open and she scans my face. “Amelia.” Her voice is garbled and my name comes out slurred, sounding more like “melia” but it’s better than nothing.
“Hey, Mom.”
I close my eyes for a moment, then do something I haven’t done in a long time, and climb into her bed.
For a moment, I stop. Stop being the adult. Stop being the one in charge. Stop making decisions. Stop worrying. I stop and I become. I become the daughter I used to be.
I wrap my arm around my mother and rest my head on her shoulder, pulling a pretty purple blanket I got for her over us. With her good hand, she reaches over and pats my arm.
For this brief moment, I get to be her daughter again. Not bound by duty, but by love.
I close my eyes and breathe deep, remembering a thousand moments like this over the course of my life. This is how I want to remember her. This is how I want to spend whatever time we have left together. I want to be the daughter who loves her, and not the caretaker or decision maker. I just want to be with her, and cherish each moment we have.
Nothing is promised, except the moment we’re in, and I’m going to do my best to live it.
Chapter sixteen
