
Non sequitur as metaphor
Words flee from her mouth like ravens from a towering spruce, ventriloquist birds that mew like cats, throw me off kilter, like the rotund hummingbird my mother asserts is swollen with babies; when I tell her birds lay eggs, she laughs— unless she’s independent and wants to do it her own way—like me! Not Alzheimer's, just dementia unspecified, said the neurologist, as if it were less than, like the tiny mustard seed the Lord said becomes the greatest of shrubs, branches into a tree, limbs stretched skyward. Her thoughts swirl and shift like bits of colored glass inside a kaleidoscope; they shimmer and shine splinter into tiny shards.
1 reply on “Non sequitur as metaphor”
Oh Patty, I’m also on this road and it’s a difficult one to walk