Everything Is Fine. by Ann Dee Ellis Read Free Book Online Page A

her room.
    She is in her yellow nightgown and she is looking at the ceiling.
    “Mom,” I whisper.
    She keeps looking up, and I sit in the chair by the bed.
    “Mom,” I say louder. She turns her head a little toward me but is still looking at the ceiling.
    Then I say, “I went to yoga. Mrs. Dean took me.”
    She blinks.
    “I think you might’ve liked it or maybe not.”
    Blinks again.
    “Is yoga stupid?”
    Blink.
    “She got me these clothes.”
    I pull out the skirt and the T-shirts and the pink thing.
    She closes her eyes and breathes really deep. I hold the clothes up for when she opens her eyes.
    She doesn’t.
    She just breathes deep.
    So I say, “Actually, your breathing is very good. It’s a rejuvenating breath called Ujjiya or something and that’s another
     thing I wanted to show you.”
    I put the clothes down and I pull the covers off her.
    But first I open the window and the blinds so she can reset her system.
    Then I say, “Keep breathing really deep through your nose.”
    She does.
    Then I say, “Okay, I’m going to help you do something from yoga. It will help you, I think.”
    Her eyes are still closed but she is doing the breath and it is almost like Darth Vader.
    So then I try to do this but it isn’t easy.
    I say, “It’s called Modified Bridge Pose.” I put my hand on her shoulders and say, “Bend your knees.”
    She doesn’t so I have to make her bend her knees. Her nightgown falls down to her stomach.
    I look at her thighs.
    Blue.
    Blue white and red.
    Like the flag.
    She doesn’t move or try to cover up. She just keeps breathing.
    “Good, Mom,” I said. “Good concentration.” Then I said, “Now get on your shoulders.”
    But I can’t really explain what I mean because it’s not easy to explain. I say, “Like put your arms underneath your body and
     curve onto your shoulders.”
    She doesn’t and I am holding her knees so they will stay bent.
    I let them go to show her the shoulder part, and they go back down.
    “Mom, you have to do some of it,” I say. Her eyes are still closed.
    So I get her knees back up and I try again. I say, “Go up with your butt and stomach in the air but your shoulders on the
     ground.”
    She lies there. Breathing.
    “Mom, please try this. Please.”
    She doesn’t move.
    “Please?”
    I let go of her knees again and they slide back down.
    I can do this.
    So I lie down on the bed.
    “Like this, Mom.” I do one. “Just do what I’m doing. It’s called Modified Bridge Pose. It’s supposed to help.”
    She won’t open her eyes.
    “Open your eyes, Mom.”
    Please open your eyes and try this. Something is starting to come up my throat but I bite on it.
    Mom’s eyes are still closed. She is breathing deep and my tongue is bleeding.
    Finally I say, “Mom, do you think I act like a little kid?”
    Nothing.
    Later, when Bill comes over to help Mom, he yells to the front room, “What are all these clothes doing on the bed?”
    I switch the channel to
Wheel of Fortune.
    “It’s one thing to have all your crap on the floor, but you can’t have stuff on the bed. Okay? You’ve got to keep stuff off
     the bed, Mazzy.”
    Bill would be bad at
Wheel of Fortune.
NONI JUICE
    One time I gave Mom a cup of noni juice.
    Norma gave it to me because she found it in her fridge and said, “Maybe your mom would like this. It’s supposed to be healthy.”
    “What is it?”
    “Exotic fruit juice delivers superior antioxidants.”
    She was reading from the label.
    “What are antioxidants?” I asked.
    She shrugged. “Not sure, but I’ve heard this juice fixes everything.”
    “Everything?”
    “That’s what I heard, on the Web site and around,” she said.
    “Why do you have it?”
    “Even if I don’t look like it, I’m trying to be healthy.”
    “Oh,” I said, and pulled another weed because I help her pull weeds almost every day now.
    I got up and sat with her at the table.
    Instead of lemonade, we had Fresca and a bottle of noni