Singular Sensation If one experience or life change results from you writing your blog, what would you like it to be?
“One moment she is here, and then she is gone again and each journey takes her a little farther from the reach”. – Debra Dean.
Amber startles and looks around with a mix of bewilderment, shock and wonder. She sits on a small wooden bench on the wet sand; the spilling waves are breaking down softly at her feet. A few sea gulls are scavenging on the sand, and one or two pelicans on the water. She held a black leather hand bag loosely in one hand, and a notebook lays spread on her lap. The scarcely perceptible wind flutters its pages at intervals. Her black dress is wet from knee down. Eyes float uncomfortably not knowing where to look. She pulls her fingers through her sticky hair. She tries to remember how she came there, why she is in the beach, and where she is supposed to go. A heavy suffocating blanket of reality began to sink in. She leans with her elbows on her knee and remains rapt in deep thought. But everything seems so hazy and vague; it’s hard to remember anything. She opens her bag and grabs the phone and looks at all the contacts. And now she is in a dilemma on whom to call; everything seems so unfamiliar. She crosses her legs then uncrosses her legs. Her forehead is shaded with a heavy cloud; lips are sealed in an expression of unspeakable sadness and anxiety.
“Hello, is this Mason?” Amber takes a big gulp pf air as she could and held it ,then asks nervously.
Mason is surprised to hear Amber’s voice “Is everything alright? Are you done with your presentation? And where are you? Are you driving back? It is so late!” Mason’s heart is pounding at a frantic tempo.
Amber can feel the anxiety from the other end and the voice seems so familiar. She swallows and answers, “I am lost and I do not know how to answer all your questions. But, will you come and pick me up close to the beach.” She turns her head and looks around to get a name for a nearby building and she finds it. She says eagerly, “I am close to the hotel Galvez”.
“I will be there in fifteen minutes!” Mason sighs and takes a deep breath. He is glad to know that Amber is fine. He decides to take her to the doctor tomorrow.
Amber is almost sixty, and graceful woman. Her fine forehead slopes gently up to where her hair and burst into wave. Her hair is as pale as milkweed has gone from black to white, and the years of laughter and joy reflect through the crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes. She has been happily married; they have no harsh edges with each other, they ride through life like conjoined jelly fish, filling each other’s space. She enjoys every bit of her life a very active lifestyle; happy in the job, enjoys her kick boxing, Ripped, yoga classes, long walk in the trail. She loves doing puzzles, reading and writing. Amber arranges her thoughts into the most beautiful words, and tries her best to flavors her stories to perfection.
But things happen and sometimes without any reason. Amber has started to become forgetful; cellphone numbers, the lane where she parks the car, the keys to the house, important papers. Sometimes she would stand in the doorways trying to figure out where she is going. Sometimes she even forgets what she wants to say. There are days she is more confused than others. Other days she drives crazily; drives her car in the wrong lanes and runs red lights or stop signs.
Mason is very worried and consults with different doctors. The doctor has diagnosed the symptoms, as Alzheimer’s a progressive neurological disease, a common form of dementia.
One early morning in October, Amber notices the pink of the new day seeping through the lacey white curtain. Settling herself more luxuriously upon one of the dining chair she decides to spend the morning in writing. Inside the kitchen, the light reflects off the bits of chrome, sinking quietly into the granite countertops and floor. While she crunches on an apple from the basket on the table and pulls over her note pad and begins to scribble ideas for her short story. The hour passes. In the middle of writing, she stretches her arms above her head, to the back, looks away, stares at the ceilings, looks back at the page in the hope of being surprised by the brilliance of what is there. She held her chin between finger and thumb, tries to think hard, but then it does not matter, she is happy with her creation. She pushes her hairs behind her ears and turns her head towards the heavy footfalls in the hallway. Mason walks-in. “ Hi, do you want to take a break and join me on the patio for a hot cup of tea?” He knows how Amber loves to sit on the patio from where you can see her treasured rose plants, and the branches of the cherry trees hang heavy with pink and white blossoms, their petals drifting like a spring snow on to the yellow daffodils below. Amber smiles. Her pale face flushes.“Sure I will.”
“Sometimes she would fall in love with me again just like she had a long time ago. And that is the most wonderful feeling in the whole world.”- Nicholas Sparks.
One Friday, as Mason walks into the house he notices Amber sitting in an old fashioned wing backed swing from this angle her face is obscured by a large sunhat. An album lays spread on her lap, she tries to visualize and the images are fuzzy, obscure, flow of things lost. Amber lifts her head. The expression of her face seems disturbed and anxious. Her lips are half open as if she means to speak, and then she draws a deep breath, her carefully tended eyebrows draw together. Smile spreads from her tightly pressed mouth, the laugh lines deepens and she says, “Hi. It is so nice to see you home early.” A big delicious smile spills over from Mason. A black cloud seems to hover over her and envelops everything. Unhappiness burrow into her soul like a winter wind whistling hollowly. Mason is determined to heal his wife, help her in this rough time. He sits close to his wife gently holding her hand. He says enthusiastically, “I want to chitchat with you, then we can go for a stroll, but first, we will look at the album together”. Mason opens up each page of the albums, and starts telling the stories on the different pictures. . They fail to penetrate Amber’s brain as if a bird collides with a window pane. It is like a puzzle and each piece held historic facts, personal memory. Amber tries her best to visualize the stories.
“Alzheimer’s is the cleverest thief, because she not only steals from you, but she steals the very thing you need to remember what’s been stolen.”
― Jarod Kintz
- I have a high hope for my blogs to touch other’s hearts and bring more social awareness which will be my greatest achievement.