One day

One day I took my mom to the store. Her shirt was dirty. Her shorts were old and worn. Her socks were dingy white. Her teeth looked unbrushed and her hair was mess.

One day I was embarrassed. I rushed her through the store trying to avoid eye contact with strangers passing by. I rushed her so she wouldn’t try to talk to people.

One day I was so frustrated that she kept repeating herself to the cashier that I interrupted her and exclaimed she had dementia and didnt know what she was saying.

Then…. one day I remembered her taking me to the store as a kid. My hair was a mess. My clothes were dirty from playing all day. I stopped everyone and asked silly questions.

That one day, my mom didnt care. I was her little girl and she loved me and didnt care what anyone thought.

Then one day, I didnt care. I didnt care what people thought. I walked slowly with my mom letting her look around. Letting her stop and talk to people. Letting her repeat herself. Letting her laugh and enjoy her time away from a house she spent most of her time alone.

One day I felt no reason to explain the situation because she was my mom and I loved her, I didnt care what anyone thought!


Me and my mom on my graduation day.

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