Feeling happy, excited, and apprehensive tonight because tomorrow after 9 days of self-quarantine due to sickness, i’m going to see Don tomorrow. I am looking forward to it with anticipated joy, but a tad of concern.
I’ve been away twice before for as long – for my own holidays. This was unplanned, involuntary, and at a point where his memory of me is so faint one never knows… and almost every time we met he asks who i am.
Nonetheless. He may not know who i am and certainly doesn’t remember anything about our 35 years together, but i’m still hoping for that beautiful smile and his arms around my shoulders. Worst case, my arms around his, because he is too polite to caste off a huggy female! And if i’m lucky he will sniff me politely, and delicately bend down to touch my lips with his, and nod.
But most of all, i need to be near his smell. His scent, no fragrance, just him — smelling solid, safe, sexy, relaxing, fulfilling.
Such a strange intimate thing, primative i guess, but the smell of that man has always signalled home. And it still does.
CaringCV 
My dear old friend, Dee… I so much wish I didn’t have to read these posts, but I do, and my heart bleeds with you. My mother had the same horrible affliction, though never as severe. Stay strong, stay loving (as ever you were), “and may you stay forever young”.
Always,
pgs
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I treasure your words
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And very value your (virtual) company. You’ve been through part of it. I don’t know exactly why i write -partly to express for others because it helps but mostly for me – to have company and to “spit it out” as my baba said. But in the end .. . You’ve got to walk that lonesome highway
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