Bittersweet Sunday
Bittersweet Sunday by Edil Rentas Casiano We knocked on the door after a somewhat long 2 hour drive from Ponce. We were looking forward to this visit albeit a little apprehensive. We arrived to visit Ana, a dear friend of over thirty five years, who at her sixty-five years of age, has been afflicted with Alzheimer’s for the last eight. Her daughter opened the door, eyes bright with happiness as my wife and I entered. We embraced in tight greeting hugs, with the usual Puertorican warmth. Inside, there she was. Same face, a little aged. Same smile—like she’d never left. Like the woman with whom we used to share so many conversations, who taught our kids to swim, who loved my wife like she was family. But the eyes… missing the spark that made Ana, Ana. We greeted her, hugged her, but she remained still, smiling, but no reaction, no affection. My wife said — soy Lucy (I’m Lucy), followed by my name. No response or change in the smile. We tried reminiscing of the old days: ...
