Emmanuel College The Hub

Written By: Lillian Crain ’26

Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash

I open the door to the room of a worn-down woman lying in bed. She looks up at me with empty eyes. I visit daily, but I get the same look every time. I take a seat next to her.

“Good morning! I’m Melinda. I’m here to check on you today. How are you doing?”

“Oh, good morning. I’m doing good today, feeling a little tired.”

“Maybe some food will help. The nurse will be bringing some soon.”

“Food sounds great.”

We talk for a little while more about what she has been doing. Her daily routine, her hobbies, her favorite magazine currently.

“So much talk about me. Let’s talk about you now,” She tends to change the subject when she’s tired of thinking.

“What would you like to know?”  I ask her.

“Children. Do you have any? I haven’t seen a child in ages.”

“Yes, I do have children.”

“How many?”

“I have three girls. All below the age 10.”

“Oh, to have little girls. May I see a picture?”

“Sure.”

I pull out my phone and show her the most recent picture of my girls.

“Beautiful. That red hair is just so pretty! They are lucky to have that hair. It’s very rare, you know.”

“Yes, they are very lucky.”

“You don’t have red hair though. Where could they have gotten that color from?”

“Oh, they got it from my mother. She had the most beautiful red hair.”

“Sharing that is very special. I would love if you brought in your girls sometime. Will you be coming to visit again?”

“Yes, I will be visiting again. The girls would love to come in.”

“That’s great,” she smiled.

This was the first time she had been excited about something in a long time.

“I had a little girl once,” she looked away as if she was watching a memory. My heart skipped a beat.

“Tell me more,” I lost my breath. She has never mentioned having a daughter before.

“Oh, um. I don’t know. I thought I did. Never mind. I don’t remember,” She looked at me with a blank expression, and the memory was gone.

I wanted to scream, “It’s me, mom! It’s me!” but I was told not to do that. They told me to let my mother remember me on her own, so I have been patiently waiting for two years and I’ll still be waiting tomorrow.