Mother’s Day and she was happy. She said her mom lived very far away, but a few days ago someone had given her a ride over here and they had had a nice chat. We could not go to her room to put away more summer clothes because her ride was coming to take her home. They wouldn’t know where to find her if she left the dining room.
Oh, and it was really nice that I could come see her, too. It was the second time she had told me “Mom and your dad were involved in a painting project.” Furniture? Walls? She couldn’t remember. My dad? Uh, who am I again?
“Oh, right, you’re Tina, not Phyllis.” But she couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around the generational entanglement.
I said I’d tell the nurses where we were so she wouldn’t miss her ride. In a few minutes, she had forgotten all about it.
It didn’t matter. She and her mom had had a nice chat. Happy Mother’s Day.