"Can I Handle The Seasons Of My Life?"

Mom & Me, circa 1990.

When she was first diagnosed, she'd already lost so much of her semantic memory-- the part of your brain that tells you that a river is a river, or that water is water. So the ability to have and hold conversations was limited.

But there was this one day when she and my sister and I were all in the car together, and "Landslide" came on. She turned to us with a big smile on her face and stated with utmost confidence, "We know this one."

Oh yeah, mama. We've got this.

We've got the entire Rumours album, thank you very much. We belted the song in the car at least three times straight. That was over 8 years ago.

It's not lost on me that she lost her voice during the formative years of me finding mine. She's nearly the same age I am currently in this photo, and today she turns twice that number. I think about my childhood, her motherhood; the seasons of our lives and our stories overlapped and intertwined. The mirrors in the sky that reflect how much like her I've become, and how much I wish I knew who she was back then, and who she would've been today, if not for dementia.

So, can I handle the seasons of my life?

It is said that time makes you bolder.

Children get older.

The snow-covered hills in winter reflect the same water in the river downstream in spring. It is all, and it is only, love.

Keep flowing, mama. I'll keep reflecting you the best I know how, every shape and form.

Even in the landslides.

Especially in the landslides.

happy birthday. xo