Lost and Found

Reunion

Jamie's P.O.V.

"So how are you?" My mother asks.

I almost laugh at the irony of the situation. I'm here, fine. And she's in front of me, weak.

"You're so old now." She says.

As I open my mouth to reply, a knock sounds on the door.

Dr. Anderson walks up to me and whispers in my ear, "If you don't mind, we'd like to do some regular daily things we do when she has enough energy and a good sense of what's going on."

I nod, I want time alone, but how can you be selfish when they are being so selfless and giving part if their life and time away to make my mom's life longer?

"I see you're doing very well today, Ms. Daves. I'm glad to see you talking so much!" He says to my mother. I take note of how he say "Ms" instead of "Mrs" but still uses my dad's last name as opposed to my mom's maiden name, Roberts.

"Oh yes, today has been wonderful. Not has! Is! It is wonderful, and I have a feeling it is just getting better!"

"Such great optimistic spirit! Would you like to get started right away or shall I give you a few minutes?"

"Um, can I bring Jamie into the room with us?"

What room? I wonder. But by the doctors hesitation I know that people who aren't patient probably aren't allowed there.

"Please?" My mother pleads.

Dr. Anderson looks up and gives in, "Sure. But there may be some times where she might have to be excused or-" he's cut off by my mother's enthusiastic clapping and smiles.

He smiles and then begins to speak, "Would you like to go now?"

"Yes." Mother says with a smile.

"But- Jamie will help me in my chair!" She exclaims to Dr. Anderson.

I stand confused but there's no way I would complain. I watch as the nurses start taking the wires of my mother's face after pressing the button to get her seat up. They take off all the wires except the oxygen one. But they unplug the wire from the weird machine and attach it to a black bag that slides into a chair that is now next to her feet.

"Jamie can take it from here." She says to the nurses.

I walk over and she tells me to turn the chair towards her. I do as she says and make sure to hold the wire so it doesn't get tangled in the wheel. She puts her legs over the side of the bed and grasp my hand. It's a very firm grip.

Nostalgia overwhelms me at the feeling that this is what it would've felt like when I was little. When I would've tried to run across the street while a car was coming, this hand would probably have grabbed my hand and pulled me back. So I'd learn to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt.

Or when I'd have wandered into the wrong aisle at WalMart or someplace, I'd have felt this hand on my arm telling me, "Get back over here!" With that tender but firm way parents always use with little children.

A tear falls from my cheek as I realize I'm thinking of something I have never done. Wonder what would and could've happened if my mother had been with me through my childhood.

"Are you okay Jamie?" She says as she holds on even tighter as she lowers herself into her chair.

Hoping my voice doesn't betray me I say, "Never been better." But my voice cracks at the end and she looks up into my tear-filled eyes.

She smiles and says, "Then let's go!" And starts to wheel herself down a path that she must be certain of since she's been doing it for years.