she started talking to herself in a hushed tone, as if in a world of her own. Her words were disjointed, filled with fragments of conversations that made little sense. My son looked confused and scared, just as he had described. He sat quietly on his bed, clutching his favorite stuffed animal, eyes wide and lips slightly trembling.
My heart sank as I watched my mother’s behavior, which seemed increasingly erratic. She began repeating my son’s name, her tone shifting from gentle to frustrated without warning. She paced around the room, her hands moving nervously as if she were trying to grasp something invisible. I realized that my mother’s strange behavior was not just fatigue or age-related forgetfulness; it was something deeper and more unsettling.
