I will hold you in the palm of my hand...

“My hands will get dirty holding your rose-shaped heart, because love is like gardening—it’s earthy and takes work to keep it alive.” 
― Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not FOR SALE

These are my Mom's hands.  She has dementia and is finding everyday things increasingly difficult.  As are we.  

She liked the fact that I have started knitting again and offered to help me so I got her some wool and needles to knit me a hat.  We started on Wednesday with instructions to rib 13 rows. She had done two rows when I went back this morning so we got it out again and I stayed while she did some more.  She has no trouble at all doing the actual knitting, that is obviously engrained in the memory from years ago.  It's remembering that she has to finish the row, do rib, and do it for 13 rows.  Then remember that it's a hat not a jumper, and that it's for me, not her.

So this is what dementia looks like - the ability to do long remembered things and feel good about it combined with the stress of not knowing what exactly to do and how long for and why...

These are the hands that cradled me and nurtured me and cleared up after me and loved me.

Now it's my turn.