My mother has Alzheimer's. It has been progressing at speeds that scare and stun me in the last few months.

Luckily I am not alone on this journey. I have two brothers and two sisters and we have daily conversations about her. We care for her together.

The time came where we started seeing signs of confusion when she was driving. My sister went to a doctor’s appointment with her, and Mom couldn’t remember where the doctor's office was. She has not only been there many times, but it is across from the hospital where she used to work.

She was headed to her favorite doughnut shop one day and called her best friend to ask for directions. We live in a fairly small town and she has lived here 54 years. She probably went to the doughnut shop once a week. …

I’m quite a personal writer. Often what I write is based on something I observe around me. Often it is people. I love people, I love people watching, and I notice the little things.

I’ve noticed something lately. When I write about people I no longer ask for anyone’s permission.

It wasn’t always that way. If the person were alive I would give them a heads up. This was only if I named them or knew others would know who I was talking about.

If the person had died, I often would ask the person who I thought was the biggest owner of their memory – their spouse, their parents, their children, a special friend. …

50 WORDS

My parents yelled when we left the door open. You know, you’re letting the air out. Yet sometimes it’s expedient. It makes it easier to go back and forth. 2020 is like that. We haven’t learned enough from it yet. Let’s leave that door cracked, as we go into 2021.

Thanks to Marla Bishop for closing out the year with this prompt!

Here’s the response of my friend Stephen Dalton.

And another piece of mine.

Kim McKinney often leaves lights on and doors open. She finds she doesn’t lock herself out that way and doesn’t fumble with light switches. She often doesn’t do things her parent’s way, wise as they were. …

I’m kinda afraid of water. I think I’ve been this way forever, though I have had moments that are worse than others.

I swim but am not a strong swimmer. I don’t like to swim underwater. Maybe I can’t. I don’t know, because I choose not to try. It scares me. Yet I can float for days.

We were in the Caribbean. We could see gorgeous fish in the crystal blue water. We had taken snorkeling gear. I put it on, stepped in the water, and just stood there. I panicked. The mask, the idea of swimming in those waters – I just couldn’t do it. While my friend snorkeled, I laid on the beach and read a book. And watched her delight longingly, I was so disappointed in myself. …

When my three youngest nieces were little, I moved back to my hometown. Not having children, I made the decision I wanted to be around them as they were growing up. My job was ending, and though I could have transferred to another job within the company, even the closest possibility was states away.

It proved to be a good decision. We spent a lot of time together. My siblings loved having me around to babysit, especially because I was up for doing all the fun stuff they were too exhausted to do. Slumber party anyone? Concerts? Those crazy things that parents say no to? …

A friend was feeling uncomfortable with the idea of receiving a stimulus check.

“I don’t need it. I’m working. Others need it more.”

My response:

“So go find these others…

His face is the work of the artist of life,
Deep crevasses painted in 3-D
The scars of a lifestyle of excess,
Hurting and disappointing himself and others,
Killing dreams and breaking hearts.

But there are other lines now,
Setting off the sparkle of his eyes and the smile on his lips,
They usually camouflage the past pain,
If you look closely though, you notice it never leaves completely.
He has won a few battles, but will he win the war?

She touches where the scars leave their marks,
And breathes in the honesty that defines him now.
His face is a memoir of not just today, but of his forever.
“To know you is to love you.” …

We’re not sure the exact year we started. We used to be better at keeping up with that sort of thing. I’m not even quite sure how I got included that first year, other than I had attended my church’s Christmas Eve service and had friends in the choir.

One of our choir members was a doctor and, like me, was new to the church. I wasn’t as new, having gone to both that church and another for a while, but that year we had both joined the church the same day.

He had started a tradition when he was still an intern, Christmas caroling at the hospital on Christmas Eve. He wanted to continue it in his new home. He invited his fellow choir members to join him. …