Tonight at dinner Kate said, “Where are we staying tonight?” I told her we were staying in our very own home that wasn’t far from the restaurant. I could tell by the question that she must have thought we were out of town. A little later, I asked our sitter for something. After that, she said, “I like traveling with you. Do you know why?” I said, “No, why?” She said, “Because your nice . . .” She couldn’t think of how to say what she wanted. I said, “Do you mean nice to the people who serve us?” She said, “Yes.” Once again, it sounded like she thought we were out of town. As we drove away from the restaurant, she said, “Exactly (with emphasis on that word) where are we now?” I told her we were in Knoxville and going to our home that was only a few minutes away. She seemed to accept that, but before we got home she said something else that made me think she was thinking we were not in Knoxville. I just don’t remember what it was.
This is not an unusual occurrence. As I reflected on it, it didn’t seem so strange at all. If she can’t remember where she is, every place can seem like we are some other place than home. For some reason that had never struck me before. This becomes just another example of how important one’s memory is.
Earlier we had been talking about our parents. I commented that I wished we had asked her mother and father to tell us what their parents were like as they were growing up. At our younger ages, we never thought of asking that. Now all we know about them is biographical information – where and when they were born, when they married and died, etc. We really don’t know a thing about their personalities and what they were like as parents. At some point, I mentioned something about her mother’s having married her father. She looked startled. She said, “My mother married my father?” I told her they were married in 1936 and asked, “Are you surprised?” She definitely was.
We had a very pleasant meal and are enjoying a little music and relaxation before adjourning to the bedroom to watch a portion of Sound of Music. Before we sat down, she was looking for her iPad. I knew it had been on the floorboard of the car on the driver’s side. Even though I was sure that I had come in with it, I went out to check. It wasn’t there. That confirmed that it must be in the house. I took a quick look around and didn’t find it. I told her I would use the “Find My iPhone” app to locate it. It frequently comes in handy. I got my iPad and walked from the kitchen into the family room. Kate was just walking into the family room from one of the bedrooms. I was focusing on the app and pressed the button to sound the missing iPad. It sounded immediately. It was in Kate’s arms. She had obviously forgotten that it was lost and I was trying to locate it.
Even with the confusion, we are getting along at the moment as if none of this confusion had occurred. It’s just an ordinary day.
