Just to say, this is not based on a real experience.
Also, I wouldn't mind some help on where to place this, I'm not surehow it would be classed
A white wall. A plain white wall with a small window that was always locked. The narrow cot that was never tidy, alone against one wall. a single chair opposite the dirty window and a dull locker by the bed.
It was here that I spent my Thursday afternoons, watching as she listlessly wanders from wall to wall, corner to corner, muttering brokenly to herself.
There are times when I thought she recognised me, times when my voice seemed to calm her but her eyes wouldn't meet mine and she still shied from contact with me.
An hour on Thursday. An hour of broken silences and forgotten promises.
And then I stand up, kiss the top of her stooped head and leave the room. Outside the nurse says the same thing,
"Will you be back next Thursday?"
"I always am."
"We'll look after her."
"That's what you're paid to do."
An appeasing smile and a weary nod of my head.
"We'll look after your mother."