POV: Bobbie, reflecting on her Mother. She's a smart lady, very nice, warm, she smells like toothpaste and hard boiled eggs. She knows where all the snacks are and takes me where I need to go, even when I don't know I need to go there. But…  | By Bekahbrunstetter on June 27, 2024 | POV: Bobbie, reflecting on her Mother. She's a smart lady, very nice, warm, she smells like toothpaste and hard boiled eggs. She knows where all the snacks are and takes me where I need to go, even when I don't know I need to go there. But she doesn't seem to know where her nose is. She's constantly asking me, Bobbie, where's my nose? Worried, I point to it. She always smiles, so happy and relieved that I've found her nose. But then she wants to know where my nose is. How is that she so easily loses track of noses? I point to my own, which looks just like hers, but smaller. YES, THERE IT IS! THERE'S YOUR NOSE! I smile at her, but wonder if it's a disorder, and if so, if it's genetic? I worry, when I'm grown and I'm a mother, will I also lose track of my own nose? But I don't let on to any of this, I get a book for us to read, instead. Maybe her brain just needs exercise, like the stretches we do in the morning. We flip through the pages. WHAT SOUND DOES A CAT MAKE?! she asks, and that really does it, because she doesn't know where her own nose is, or what sound a cat makes?! IS SHE OKAY? I look up at her, making sure it's into both of her eyes, making sure she can really hear me. Mow, I say, praying this time, she remembers it. | | | |
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