I bounce down the hall and into the special care ward, practically with a song in my heart, feeling good. The place is pretty quiet, and I spy my love sitting firmly in a chair.
This is good because for far too long he has lurched along on aching feet. I approach, as he sits motionless. Not agitated, not sleeping, not talking to himself as he often does. Just sitting, thinking, I guess.
“Oh look at that beautiful face,” he greets me. “Who are you?”
We get through the preliminaries and i don’t know if he really remembers who i am, but he is happy to hold hands as we talk. “I guess we’ll being heading to Ontario soon,” he suddenly says clearly.
“Yes,” I reply. “But not right now.” I feel my heart begin to tear apart but try to ignore it.
“Do you have enough money?” he asks.
“Yes, there’s lots of money.”
“Oh good, I was thinking and thinking to see if we had money. I love you all the time. ”
By then I am shattered and tossed helplessly in grief again. “I’m sorry I’m crying.”
“Yes,” he says calmly, “I see that.”
And, with much deliberation, some apparently aimless fussing, and a lot of confusion about the tea, the spoon, the food, we eat lunch and I come home until the next time.