How quickly the memory fades.

We’re in Barnes & Noble right now. We came here after dropping off Kevin at the airport for his flight back home. A couple of minutes ago, we looked across the table at each other. She pointed to her iPad. The expression on her face signaled a question. At first, I couldn’t figure out what she wanted. Then I realized that she was asking if she could work another puzzle. I told her that would be fine. I wonder why she asked after she had been working them for a full hour or more? One more mystery.

As she went back to her iPad, I said, “I’ll bet Kevin is in the Atlanta airport right now.” She said, “Where?” I repeated myself and then said, “He is changing planes to catch a flight to Lubbock.” Then she said, “Who are his parents?” I said, “You and I.” Then she said, “What’s his name again?” I said, “Kevin.”

In a few minutes, I received a text from Kevin saying he was at the gate for his flight to Lubbock. When I told Kate, she asked, “Where is he going?” I said, “To Lubbock.” She said, “For a job?” I said, “No, he is going home. That’s where he lives.” She answered, “Where has he been?” I said, “Here.” She said, “Oh, that’s right.”

It always seems strange to observe how well she functions in many ways and then how quickly she can say or do something so revealing of her Alzheimer’s. I think of the connections in her brain like an electrical wire that is partially broken but hanging by a thread. Sometimes the electricity flows through despite the break. Other times it doesn’t. It’s hard to predict when each will happen.

As I was writing, she said something. I thought she was ready to go, but she was trying to solve a problem with her puzzle. I asked if I could help her and fully expected her to say yes. She surprised my by saying, “I got it.” Despite her growing dependence, perhaps because of it, she still works hard to do some things on her own.