by Keren Thillet I hear her soft voice from down the hall.
"Mom, are you ready for your shower?"
The water is running. My towel is ready. But can I get in like this?
This thing can't get wet. She knows that. And this, I have to take off!
"I’ll be right there. Take off your hearing aid. Take off your glasses.
Remember where you put them. Be careful getting in."
She is so good to me . . .
"There now. Stop crying. Doesn't the water feel nice?
Open your eyes so you can use the soap."
I don't want to see myself, that horrible scar on my chest.
Can't she see it? Oh, Lord. Just take me to heaven! This body
is falling apart.
"We're almost done. It looks better every day.
My, you’re healing fast. But you've always been a fast
healer."
She is so good to me . . .
"Okay, let's get out and dry off. You smell so nice."
Is she my daughter, or am I hers? . . .
Oh, no! They’re lost! Where did I put those things?
Could I have flushed them?
"Calm down . . . Let's think, now . . . Where could you have...
Do you remember . . . Ah, here they are.
Put them on. Can you hear me? Can you see me?”
She is so good to me. What would I do without her?
Thank you Lord for her. You are so good to me.
Again I hear that soft voice.
"Mom, are you ready for dinner?"
About the Author
Keren Thillet joined Point Loma Nazarene University in 1997 and works as webmaster . She graduated from PLNU in 1991 with a Bachelor of Arts and obtained her Master of Science from San Diego State University in 1997. |