Confined.

My mom works in a nursing home.

She cuts and curls old ladies' hair.

Repetitive actions, over and over.

We went to visit her yesterday,

and we met all kinds of sweet women.

Katy, the alzheimer's patient who used to work at a dentist office.

She told me I had pretty teeth... Eight times.

Victoria, the sweet one in her purple pajamas,

with a quiet but very present spunk, 

She kept winking at me.

Opal, with her quiet, perceptive demeanor,

She listens to every word that was spoken,

sometimes I would catch her laughing to herself.

And then there's my mom.

She keeps all these ladies looking & feeling beautiful,

You can just tell how much she loves them,

Even as she spends hours 

trying to get them to sit still, reminding them where they are.

She gives them a few hours of camaraderie there in her salon.

A place where they can pretend they don't live
within the confines of a state nursing home.

As they pretend they aren't confined
by their frail bodies, or their slipping minds.

As Mother's Day approaches, 

I'm amazed again at the ministry my mom has,

even in a nursing home.