You wake up in a seemingly unknown bedroom.
You don’t know how you got there or why you are sleeping alone.
You are scared.
In fact you cannot remember what you ate for dinner, or even what day it is, but those are meaningless facts.
All you know and care about in the moment is that you are scared and alone.
And that’s not okay.
You must find your people.
You touch your achy feet to the ground and head for the door.
You don’t know the house either. Where are you? Where is your husband? Your children?
A stranger stops you right in your tracks before you reach the living room. You are pale, nearsighted and tears are wet on your face.
She says “You are okay. Your daughter is at work. She won’t get home for another 3 hours. You live here with her and you are just tired and simply forgot. You are safe and loved. Go back to bed.”
“Okay goodnight, sorry, I’m going to bed.”
You feel like an idiot. You Are tired after all. You remember for a moment: your husband died years ago; you live with your daughter.
You go back to bed.
This happens 6 times as you doze off but finally dreams begin.
You aren’t alone. You are safe.
Evening of an Alzheimer’s patient. 2014
With a mix of authentic vulnerability, relevant truth, and humor, Andy Anderson writes poems that immediately make you want to be their friend. They are a co-organizer of Byrony Blaze’s Queer Poetry Takeover in Portland, OR.