You can't tell, but she is laughing here because I was taking too many pictures
Tonight I spent the evening taking care of mom just like she used to take care of me for so many years in this very house. I remember walking these halls when I was young and this house filled with life. And as I clean her up after her meal and help her drink her water, I remember those younger, youthful days. Mom was always cleaning up after dinner while we got ready for bed. And as I stand here tonight in front of the same sink she stood so many years ago, washing all the dishes from dinner, I let out a sigh of sadness reliving my mother's footsteps. I helped her in the bathroom, she still is so modest, but this is what she used to do for me. I push her wheelchair and think she used to push me too. And here we are full circle, one evening out of many where my heart is filled with what used to be. I love my mother. I love our time together. She may not be able to tell me she loves me, she may not be able to do much for herself, but I can. She cracks a smile as I enter back into the room from shutting down the house for the evening. With her withered body, weak and frail, she lifts her hand and rests it on me. She is my mother, I am her daughter.