She's Still My Mommy

She hasn't been my "Mommy" for years now.  The roles reversed some time ago.  The other night as she lay in bed, unbeknownst to any one in the household, she was aware enough of what was going on to be justifiably concerned.  "Are you alright?"  she asked me as I walked in the room getting ready to bed down in the bed beside her.  I told her it had just been a tough day for everyone.  "Are you sure you're OK?" she spoke with a very furrowed brow.  I tried to assure her everything would be fine in the morning after we all got some rest.  " I love you" she told me and reached out to hold my hand.  I bent down, kneeled at her side, and laid my head on her lap.  "Mommy,  your the best mother in the whole wide world...I love you, too".  As tears began to well up, I excused myself, went to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine and cried  for a long, long time - big, ugly, loud heaving and bawling...the kind that distorts your face, and rocks your whole body.  Later, I heard someone come in the garage door, so I quickly gained composure, and dried my tears just in time.  When I finally got to bed, mom and I lay in the dark.   I could tell she was still awake.  "Mommy?...would you mind if I crawl in bed with you and snuggle?"  "Of course not, honey, I'd love that".  She wrapped her arms around me and patted my shoulders, as I lay my head on her chest.  "Am I hurting your arm?" I asked.  "No, you stay as long as you like" she said with more vocabulary than she's had for months. 
     Lucidity gone, the next day she was very agitated, didn't know where she was, and wanted to "go home", as has been the" usual" for awhile now; but for the first time for Kinsey, she didn't know who she was all day and was very leery of her.