THERE ARE THREE PEOPLE CALLING ME MOM

Dear Delyara, My children are six and nine. My mother is seventy-eight and has dementia. Tonight, my son called “Mom” from the bathroom because he had thrown up. My daughter called “Mom” from her bedroom because she was afraid of the storm. At the same time, my mother stood in the kitchen calling “Mom” because she thought she was a little girl again. I did not know which direction to go. I chose my son because he was sick. My daughter cried alone for six minutes. My mother wandered out the front door. The police found her three blocks away wearing slippers in the rain. Everyone is safe now. That is what people will say tomorrow. They will not see me sitting at the kitchen table at three in the morning, still wearing the wet sweater I had on when I ran outside. There are three people in this house who call me Mom. I am afraid one day they will all need me at once, and my body will simply split into pieces trying to answer.