Despite Kate’s getting up unusually early yesterday, she didn’t nap at all. Part of the reason was that, except for two hours, we were gone all day. I had fully expected her to want to return home from Panera for a nap before lunch, but we stayed there until meeting our pastor for lunch at another restaurant. We had a very good visit with him and took a longer-than-usual lunch. Kate handled herself beautifully. She had been the volunteer church librarian for 19 years. Our pastor commented about the contribution she had made in that role. It didn’t take any encouragement for Kate to speak up about the library and how she managed it. I love seeing her get opportunities like this. On so many other occasions, she finds herself in conversations in which she is unable to contribute much.
We had just enough time to freshen up before Kate’s bi-weekly massage. Kate was in the waiting area of the spa when I picked her up. I said, “Did you enjoy it?” She said, “What?” I said, “Your massage.” She said, “I didn’t have a massage.” That’s a striking example of how short “short-term memory” can be.
After that, we came home for two hours before going to dinner. During that time, we relaxed in the family room, she on her iPad and I on my laptop with music playing all the time, of course. It was a very pleasant time. We followed that by going to dinner at Bonefish Grill.
Near the end of our meal, Kate wanted to use the restroom. It was located in a direct line from our booth to the back of the restaurant, but I walked her there to avoid any confusion. Then I went back to our booth and sat on her side of the table so that I could watch for her when she came out. I wasn’t surprised when she walked out of the restroom and took an immediate left instead of walking straight to our seats. When I caught up to her, she was entering the section where the bar is located. I called to her, and she turned around. She looked very relieved. When we got back to our seats, she thanked me for getting her. Then she said, “I didn’t panic at all.” Moments later she confessed that she was worried and thought I might not be able to find her.
On the way home, Kate said, “If someone were to ask where we live, what would you say?” I told her. Then she said, “Who are my parents?” That prompted me to tell her not only their names, but that her Dad was from Fort Worth and her mother from Battle Creek. Then she asked how they got together. As I told her about their meeting in Michigan, falling in love, their marriage, and her mother’s moving to Texas, she was excited just as though this were the first time she had every heard the story. For her, of course, it really was like the first time. She showed no recognition at all of her mother’s being from Michigan or anything else I told her.
I wasn’t surprised that Kate wanted to get ready for bed soon after we got home. First she brushed her teeth in the guest bath next to our bedroom. When she came out she didn’t know where to go. I heard her say, “Hey” and went to her. I brought her to our bedroom. A few minutes later she left to get something. She got lost again. Again, I heard her say “Hey.” This time she had made her way to the kitchen. It’s just another example of how even the things she has held on to the longest are drifting away.
