a certain kind of blue

no matter how many millions of tiny paper cuts Alzheimer's manages to inflict on my Nonna's beautiful brain, it has yet to extinguish the fire in her blue eyes. those blue eyes see what i can never see. she remembers events, dates and facial expressions with photocopy accuracy. of course, the lens doesn't work as well as it used to. i always get asked whether i have one or two cats - sometimes in the span of ten minutes. but the dementia hasn't compromised her ability to cut to the chase when need be. and when the tears start to well up in those beautiful blue eyes, you know there's some raw truth coming. now, every time i speak up and debate/argue some point at Sunday dinner (and it happens a lot) i could feel those blue eyes on me. she will never interrupt, but i always feel she is quietly scanning through the family tree to see which relative i most remind her of. i'd like to think she is impressed - even smiling - when she does. but i also get the feeling she's seen it all before. those blue eyes know how this all ends. they just don't want to spoil it for the rest of us.