Family
We stopped to pick flowers from neighbors’ bushes along the way. She pressed the pink and white blossoms into my hands for safe-keeping, a handful of jumbled petals still damp from the rain. “Does she remember the way?” E said. But Ibuk took firm hold of my arm and brought me to her husband’s grave.
We’re losing Ibuk (my mother-in-law) to Alzheimer’s disease. Sometimes she whispers to me in basa Jawa and I just can’t understand. Sometimes the memories come skipping, tripping, flooding out of her, and my husband translates. Sometimes she wants to cry and be held, so I hold her, which doesn’t require words.
A spell of rain before sunrise, just enough for the orchids. Last quiet day before E returns with Ibuk. Happy to see them but I savor today’s solitude, the no need to speak, how the words that come out are just for me. Or the cats. Or the fish in the pond, or Blih or Father, or Mbok A., or etc.
Batik with burung merak (peacock) and wijaya kusuma flower, a gift from Ibuk.
