This morning while Kate and I were seated on the front row of Scott Roselle’s talk radio show at Chautauqua, she got up and walked outside without saying a word. Knowing how geographically challenged she is, I got up and followed her. She appeared to be looking for something as she walked toward the front door of the bookstore. Before she got to it, she started up the steps to the post office. I called to her. She stopped and I asked her where she was going. She said she was going to the rest room. I told her the rest rooms were behind the library and took her there. I knew from past experienced that it would not be easy for her to find it. Before she went in, I pointed to the place where we had been and told her to meet me there. I said, “Just turn left when you come out.” Then I went back to where we had left our cushions and iPads on the front row of Roselle’s show. (BTW, he was interviewing Erik Larson.) I sat for a moment and then gathered our belongings and walked back to the restroom. I didn’t see her; so I waited outside the door. In a few minutes, a woman walked out. I described Kate and asked her if she had seen her. She said she hadn’t but went back in to look after I told her that Kate has Alzheimer’s. It turns out that Kate wasn’t there. That put me in a quandary. I looked for her for about 15 minutes, perhaps more, walking in the area near the restroom, the front of the library, the brick walk, and our apartment. I finally saw her standing in front of our apartment. She was looking at it as though she was confused as to whether this was the way into our apartment or not. I walked up to her. I didn’t say a word. I just put my arms around her. She rested her head on my shoulder. She didn’t say anything either. We haven’t spoken about it, but it was clear that she had been frightened and relieved to see me.
