I seldom reblog, but found this beautiful and encouraging.
“There it is, Mom, “ Steve remarked, as he pointed to a little white house in the middle of a city block. “That’s where we lived when I was growing up.”
“Oh, yes,” she replied. But did Mom really remember?
We were on an excursion through Columbus, Ohio, taking Steve’s mother past the landmarks of her life. Alzheimer’s disease had already stolen away much of her vibrancy and warmth, and, of course, her memory.
Steve drove by West High School and continued his commentary. “That’s where we all went to school, you, Dad, Karen, and me. You were the very first homecoming queen. How about that? No wonder Dad asked you out.”
She murmured assent to Steve’s comments, but added nothing of her own.
We drove past the brick ranch they built out in the country in 1966. Horses used to reside beyond the back fence. Just…
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