My mother has Alzheimer's. Whenever I visit we mostly sit as familiar strangers and talk about the tea. Once in a while, though, there’s a small window, five minutes max, when her eyes sparkle. One day I pointed out a misshapen clay pot I’d made for her. I suggested she throw it out. She smiled and replied that a little boy had made it for her using his own hands and all his love. "I’ll never throw out any of your gifts, John." We shared a moment, a memory, and then it was back to how tasty the tea was.
John White is a Canadian writer of poems, memoirs, and longer fiction. He explores mental health and depression in his writing. His blog is poppysmata.blogspot.com/.