For Mom (300 words)

Kelly guilted herself into peeling her thighs off her leather car seat. She couldn’t skip today.

What’s the point of turning 99 if you can’t remember it’s your birthday?

Still, Kelly had stopped at the gas station and settled on a slightly bent birthday card, Reese cups and a lottery ticket.

The air conditioning hit her like an ice bucket.

“Hello, Erin.” A young girl glanced up from the reception desk.

“Afternoon, Kelly. She’s just finished eating…. she asked about you today,” Erin added. Kelly twisted her face into what she hoped was a convincing smile from a loving daughter as she signed in.

Kelly tried not to breathe through her nose as she waded through the sea of elderly people waiting to die. Mom looked over from her usual seat by the window. She surveyed Kelly as though she were trying to place where she knew her from.

“Do you know who I am?” Kelly kicked herself for asking. She knew it only upset her.

Mom smiled sheepishly. “I know I’m supposed to know you, but forgive me…. what’s your name, Darlin?” She called everybody “darlin.”

“Kelly.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

Kelly remembered why she’d come. “I brought presents.”

“How nice!” Mom read the card, “Happy Birthday, Mom.” Understanding preceded the tears.

“I’m so sorry, Kelly.”

She had a classic meltdown after that, ending with sedatives. Kelly hung her head, defeated.

Mom’s lottery ticket lay on the floor. Kelly fished for a quarter. What the hell…

Kelly couldn’t breathe. $300,000! Well…Kelly stopped. The nursing home would keep it anyway. No one needed to know she bought it for Mom.

Kelly rushed out the door faster than normal, and she made a promise to God that after taxes, she’d donate the rest to Alzheimer’s research. For Mom.