A long time ago, I lived on Sugarloaf Mountain. On Sugarloaf Mountain, I had many things: time on my hands, a Saanan goat named Daisy whom I led around like a dog on a purple leash printed with daisies, a very long driveway, and a pair of Watusi cattle named Gus and Clara. I also had excellent neighbors across the ridge named Donnie and Alene.

Alene was a fellow bookworm and we would trade paperbacks as frequently as we traded recipes. She started me some flowers and we would take them eggs. She was like another mother to me, so warm and inviting. They had a pond and many summer afternoons you could find me there feeding their catfish…or catching them. I walked with Alene around her yard as she pointed out various flowers and where they had come from. She had beautiful, thick, clematis vines climbing up her carport. It was a quiet life for a 26 year old. I felt like a homesteader, working in my lettuce bed and scattering corn for the wild turkeys.

Flash forward twelve years. I had worked with Alene in the 911 building until she retired, and I moved off the mountain, back home. I ran into Donnie and Alene at the funeral home (that’s where I see everybody!) and I learned that they, too, had moved. It was so good to see them and catch up! I hugged their necks off.

The next time I saw Donnie he was with his daughter-in-law at the fair. I kept catching his eye but it was like he didn’t recognize me. Which was entirely possible because I had on my big Jackie O sunglasses. We were watching the unveiling of the Lego courthouse and as soon as it was over I rushed up through the crowd and grabbed him. “Are you just gonna ignore me or are you gonna give me a hug?”

“I would honey, but I don’t know who you are.” He looked me dead in the eye.

Now, Donnie has always been a big cut up. He’s the definition of jovial and his eyes just twinkle. He loves to pester and aggravate and joke. He gets tickled and shakes all over like a jellyfish. Which makes me laugh that much harder.

I poked him in the gut. “Very funny. How’s momma?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’m not kidding, I don’t know who you are.”

My smile faltered. I glanced at Misty. She confirmed it.

“He’s not joking. He doesn’t know you, Amy. He had a stroke a month ago and lost a percentage of his memory.”

“I can’t remember anything after 1978,” Donnie piped up.

I know my mouth had dropped open. I suddenly remembered Alene posting Facebook updates about his stroke but I had evidently missed the part where he had lost his memory. Or maybe I had lost mine. I was so ashamed.

So we stood and talked a minute, and a vague recognition came to his eyes. “Alene told me I would probably see a girl named Amy here tonight, and that we love you.”

I know my eyes welled. I asked him if he remembered Dave, his neighbor of many years, and his son Tyson’s good friend all through school. There was nothing there. He didn’t even remember his own son. At this point I was afraid of upsetting him worse, and so I bid them farewell, feeling lower than a gully snake’s belly.

The next day I sent a message to Alene, apologizing profusely for any embarrassment I may have caused him or undue stress. She assured me he was getting used to having people run up to him that he didn’t recognize. I promised her that I would pray for his memory to be restored, and strength for her during this trying ordeal.

In January, Donnie had to have another knee replacement. While I understand his memory is quite a bit better, this is still a challenge adapting to this health concern. Most recently Alene has suffered from her second mini-stroke and of course, it is weighing on her mind that she may not be able to care for Donnie in the coming days. He is prone to Sundowners as his disease progresses.

Are you there, God? It’s me, Amy. I’m back again tonight, praying for another soul that is very dear to me. Alene is fretting about taking care of Donnie, her husband of decades. You know all about it, Lord. And you know that Alene has health troubles of her own. Her worries lie with who will be there for Donnie if something happens to her and she can’t provide him with the level of comfort and stability he’s come to expect, and no doubt needs. I ask you to ease her mind, Lord, and build her up the way only you can. I ask for complete healing in her mind and nervous system from her strokes. I ask you to help Donnie help her by getting stronger every day, both in his mind and his legs, Lord. I know you can help them. I know you hear our prayers. I know you love us and protect us in so many ways, Lord. I ask that their son and grandson help carry the burden of providing for them and never speak sharply or become exasperated when repeating themselves. Please God hear her cries and show her you are there for comfort, strength, and mercy. I thank you for their kind, gentle souls that have been a blessing to me over the years. I always knew they loved me, and I pray that they know how dearly I love them. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Alene asked me to include her in my prayers yesterday, and of course I obliged. I asked her what she would like me to fast, and she said I didn’t have to, but of course I do, that’s part of it. She couldn’t think of anything besides IHOP. Ha! Y’all know how I love my IHOP crepes and hash browns. I agreed I would stay out of there for her! Coincidentally, I had eaten there yesterday morning. And strangely enough, with the person who introduced us.

You tell ME God ain’t real.

I didn’t eat taters today, either, because staying out of IHOP was too easy for a real Lent sacrifice. Staying away from french fries, though….well, that’s a different story.

Y’all have a blessed night and Sunday!

Love from Appalachia,

Amy xoxo