Kate has a nickname for me, “MM,” “My Memory.” I don’t really have a great memory, but she thinks so. Of course, compared to hers, it is fantastic. I am able to help her with most things she forgets. It is not unusual, however, for me to slip up. I did just that this afternoon. I completely forgot about our 3:00 appointments for haircuts. Fortunately, Dawn called about 3:05 to ask if she had made a mistake. I checked my calendar. I had entered it correctly. I just hadn’t looked at it.
Her phone call broke into a very peaceful and unusual moment. Kate and I had returned from lunch a few minutes before 2:00. It is the first nice day after almost a week of cold temperatures. For that reason, I fully expected Kate to head straight for the yard when we got home. Instead she came in the house and brushed her teeth. Then she brought her iPad into the family room and took a seat. When I saw her, I told her I would come in and join her. I put on some piano music by Andre Previn and sat down on the sofa with my laptop where I made my previous journal entry. We don’t have many moments like that. I think we were both enjoying it. I know I was. Thus, I had mixed feelings about Dawn’s call. I knew we had made a commitment to be there. I needed to have my haircut, and Kate was due for color. On the other hand, I hated to break the spell. I’ll remember that as a special time during which we didn’t say a word to each other. We just enjoyed quietly passing time together.
As I reflect on what I just said, I have to contradict myself. Every evening we have a similar experience when we return home from dinner. We go back to our bedroom where I sit in my chair and watch the PBS Newshour. Kate sits in her chair and works on her iPad. It is a very peaceful way to end the day. I think what struck me this afternoon was having the experience at that time of the day. Typically, when we are at home, Kate is outside, and I am inside.
