Dandelion Row | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Dandelion Row | Previous Challenge Entry
By Kay Newman
03/10/16
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Silent and pensive, her hair tangled and gnarled from a night of tossing and turning, I see her gazing out the window as if analyzing how to restore all those fallen leaves to their rightful place on the trees. Her face is empty of understanding as she searches for answers about her once familiar surroundings. It is not unusual for Mary Bell to lose her bearings after sleep and there are days she only regains her serenity long into the morning. Watching her struggle to sanity is forever painful to experience…if only I could help.

In the early stages of her disease, we had laughed to ease the pain of her new reality, joking about the days and years of mystery for both of us. But since laughter had always sustained us, she found a complimentary chuckle as she whispered, "a mind is a terrible thing to lose." The giggles seemed hollow now as we both tried to disguise the gut wrenching, anticipated accepting of a life with Alzheimer's.

As children, laughter had gotten us through many nights of early bedtimes when sleep was illusive. Our parents' idea of peace was adult company and no little munchkins begging for attention. As they enjoyed the late night conversations with friends, discussing their views on Bible verses and doctrine, or how best to rear eight children and remain marginally normal, Mary Bell and I would entertain each other with silly bedtime chatter. "I dare you to spit straight up!" Roaring, muffled laughter would burst from underneath the red quilted covers as we buried our heads as best we could to keep the reprimands at bay. Just as I thought we were drifting into sweet slumber, Mary Bell would announce, "I'm going to do it. I'm going to spit!" Oh my, even now I cannot contain the laughter in my soul and replay the sweet, sweet memories of two little girls basking in the innocence of life. Those were such sweet times.

In these times of sorrow and dismay, I am reminded of two precious passages of scripture that have always delighted me; Proverbs 17:22, "A merry heart doeth good like a medicine…" and Lamentations 3:22-23 says "His mercies are new every morning." (paraphrased). So, I wait. Drawing on the love that poured Himself out for me, I reach for my sister's hand and direct her to a steaming bowl of oatmeal and cinnamon toast. She looks blankly into my face and I know she sees, but cannot find me. My heart breaks and we keep the verbal exchange light and fresh about flowers and gardening, her passion. We gather gloves and hand spades and look for another Gerber Daisy to move to the other side of Dandelion Row, again, and she smiles.

As darkness settles in, and all lights are turned off except a small, angel light used to illumine the path to the bathroom in the night, we leave all the details and difficulties behind. Mary Bell and I lie still, and I draw in a long, deep sigh, as tears fall silently to my pillow. Just like we used to do as children, we softly rehearse that sweet, sweet children's prayer of the ages, "Now I lay me down to sleep…" As sleep approaches, and I retire my mind of the rehearsal of yet another memory-filled day, I hear Mary Bell turn and whisper softly, "Anna, I'm going to do it….I'm going to spit!" Unreserved laughter explodes and with arms extended, she sees me, and for a short time, she is home. And this is enough for me, as mercy is extended to this grateful, merry heart.

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