To My Paternal Grandmother,

I don’t know how to write about how you didn’t recognize me today.

I watched as words fell out of your mouth, stumbling over each other until they landed in a jumbled heap, unintelligible.

We stood there in silence.

When I turned to leave, I knew you didn’t recognize me. I prayed for the miracle of memory. I hoped my name would fall into your mind accompanied by all the times we spent together.

I’ve tried to find words to describe what felt like the shattering of my existence when I heard you call me “that girl”.

The realization that someone who helped raise me can’t distinguish between my presence and that of an absolute stranger is humbling.

Do you remember weekday afternoons filled with fresh fruit, bowls of cereal and episodes of ‘Cyberchase’?

‘Wheel of Future’ was the soundtrack to my childhood and your apartment was my fortress.

Your bed was my trampoline as long as the floor was covered with lots of pillows.

Tomorrow, I’ll swing by to see if things will be any different.

But for now, I’m grateful I can remember the moments that shaped me into who I am.

I’m also grateful that you were there for many of them.

Grandma, I’m blessed to have you,

And even in the moments when your memory plays hide-and-go-seek,

I will love you the same.