One clear moment

Almost every weekend a young man pushing a wheelchair of an older lady enters the neighborhood cafe and every time I hear her asking who he was. I could read the sadness of his face.

Once he entered the neighborhood cafe without her. Sad and broken he orders a coffee. Every day I walk in her room, she ask who are you? What are you doing? He told me after taking a sip of coffee.

It’s me mom, your son. Looking with her big eyes she tries to give me a place in her mind, but she couldn’t. I just long for that one clear moment that she would recognize me, he told.

I asked him why you come to her so often if she does not know who you are. He answered

“ It does not matter that she no longer knows who I am, but that I know who she is”