Her eyes are blue and skin pale as a ghost, as if no life runs through her vanes. I sit and stair at her as if she was the only thing in the room, wondering why she can’t remember me? Though the sickness that travels throughout her mind and body has had it’s toll, shes still fighting the good fight. She sits with her legs and arms crossed with sweats and blankets covering her for warmth, In a electrical chair that moves up and down. sitting to her left is one of the four home nurses with a napkin and bottled water with a straw. Papaw to her right holding her hand like the were still in high school pronouncing there love to fellow classmates, rubs and never lets go. “Irene” he says, look has come to visit you. With no movement just little noises coming from her mouth like moans and groans she does nothing. I can remember sitting in her lap some years ago, listing to her not really whistle but have sound with wind that was blown our of her mouth. Though these are just past events I wish that I could be in her arms and hear her blown that hot air with the sound of Amazing Grace coming from her mouth one more time.
