She turned to me with a smile and that old spark in her eyes

‘Alexia’ she said. Clearly, in that sing-songy way she always did.

I was stunned.

It’s been years since I heard that word leave her lips.

These days, I’m a different person each time we meet.

Even though it sucks, I roll with it.

A church member, a waitress, or a complete stranger.

She has no recollection of raising me. 

Teaching me, laughing with me, reprimanding me, sharing with me.

It made me wonder what else she remembered at that moment.

Grandma, can you come to the kitchen and remind me how it’s done?

Or maybe you can write down that cake recipe that I love so much?

Can you fix this hemline on my skirt?

Perhaps you can shed some light on how Grandaddy stuck around for 72 years?

I must’ve been frozen.

Again she said it, ‘Alexia’.

Yes! Yes, Grandma, I’m Alexia. You remembered!

She smiled back at me.

It was like God came down and turned the lights back on.

I felt like a little girl again.

Awaiting the lioness’ roar!

I wanted to do whatever she asked of me.

But just as quickly as it came, that light flickered off.

That blank stare 

Confusion

Disorientation.

Fuck you Alzhimer’s. You sick, twisted thief!

You stole my Great-Grandma

You locked her in a prison that gets a little smaller everyday.

Only feeding her a mash-up of pieces of misremembered memories.

Allowing her sporadic, untimed, moments of sunlight.

The four generations she birthed exist as fleeting moments of deja vu.

I guess at 107 years old, you deserve to forget some things.

She’s already forgotten this moment we shared, so I’ll hold it for us, Grandma.

Thank you for that flicker.