Scrambled Brain

Image by blogetta

Image by blogetta

Will rises early, eager to please his mother, whose birthday is today of all days. He shuffles to the kitchen to make her a special breakfast. He looks in the refrigerator but finds it bare. He checks the pantry and sees cobwebs in it. Remembering another refrigerator in the house, he goes downstairs to the basement.

What a senile moment, he chuckles to himself. Of course, he stocks the downstairs fridge so no one can see the exotic food he keeps. He takes out a plastic container and brings it upstairs.

After fussing around the kitchen and making all the fixings, Will carries a tray of food down a short hallway. He stops in front of a closed door and knocks.

“Mama?” He calls out softly and gently opens the door. He sets down the tray on a dusty dresser and walks to the bed where a desiccated looking body is laying under a blanket.

“Rise and shine, birthday gal.” Will sits the figure up. “I made your favorite, scrambled brain, Mama.” He gets the tray and places it on the bed between the remains and himself. Sitting across from her, he talks about the things they’ll do to celebrate her birthday.  Every year he finds it easier to face his mother because his vision is growing weaker. He doesn’t like seeing how his mother ages.

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