A Dementia Patient and Her Moose

Ode to the woman I loved most

Mom and I on the back deck of that property, surrounded by willows, a favorite moose food

Did you see the moose?” the little old lady asked, her voice little more than a whisper, soft and thin. She pointed feebly. Since she had aged, and dementia had taken hold, Mom spoke less from her diaphragm. Even when she was happy, such as when bourbon was on offer, or peanut butter straight from the jar, I sometimes had to squint and turn my ear slightly…