When my 91-year-old mother,Elia,moved in with me, I thought I was doing her a service.
In fact,it was the other way around.
You see,mom was having issues with memory loss and accepting her age.
She looked defeated.
I tried to make her as comfortable as possible, but when I was at my easel,painting,I would peek over and see her just "there." She'd be staring at nothing in particular.
I'd watch her slowly climb the stairs, and she wasn't the mom I grew up with.
I saw,instead,a frail,tiny,old woman.
A few weeks went by,and I needed a break from my painting.
I wanted to play with the new camera I had just bought.
I was excited -- it had all sorts of dials, buttons and settings I wanted to learn,so I set up my tripod facing this large mirror, blocking the doorway to the only bathroom in the house.
