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Broken Thoughts (My Mom’s Alzheimer’s)
I am sitting with Mom at the breakfast table trying not to stress over the way she picks at her favourite meal, when she says softly,
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
Her tone is ominous and there are tears in her eyes. She continues in a quiet voice,
“There’s a gentleman that really knows his way around. And I’m (she states her full name) and Dixie is my daughter. And you know him very well. He’s the owner of the entire place.”
“What’s his name?” I ask.
“I didn’t ask him. But I know him. As I said, we met there in that vast amount of atmosphere. He seemed like a pleasant man. He’s the owner of the entire place. You might hear from him, you never know.”
“Where did you see him?” I ask.
“Around” she replies with a small circular gesture of her hands.
“He’s a very pleasant man and you met him already.”
“What does he look like?”
“A fair skinned man. Curly hair, well spoken, tall.”
“What was he saying?” I ask.
“We were just chatting. I introduced myself to him and that was it. Not much more is left.”
“What was your daughter doing?”
“She was wondering all around the entire environment out there. We call her Dixie.”
What’s she doing?” I ask trying to clarify my role in this tale.
“Just mingling with her friends out there because the crowd is so big.”
“So, there are a bunch of people?” I ask.
“I don’t know…
