u?" she asked. 1 said yes. "where was i when l had you?" she asked me. i told her she was in a hospital in far rockaway. new york. "so much has happened to me in my life." she said "you can't expect me to remember everything."
my mother was once a beautiful woman, but all her teeth are gone now. toothless. no woman can be considered beautiful. whenever i visit her in the nursing home, she is sitting at the table in the common dining room, her head in her hands, rocking. medication has eased her anxiety, but nothing moves her from her stupor except occasional moments of fear, too deep for medication. this is a room that has no windows, that lets in no light, in which an overlarge tv is constantly blaring, sending images that no one looks at where the floors are beige tiles, the walls cream colored at the bottom, papered halfway up with a pattern of nearly invisible grayish leaves. many of the residents sit sta