The Lost One
I just visited you in your new care-facility. I spent 45 minutes with you. You wont remember though.
At 93, I doubt I’ll remember much either.
I enjoyed our visit very much. Most of your sentences made sense. Some had nothing to do with anything. But that’s all part of the fun.
There are very few details of your life that you can recall. The stories are gone. I doubt you remember your hometown in Kentucky, or how many kids that you have. You weren’t sure who Great-Grandpa Walton was. He’s the man, whose picture is hanging on the wall in your room and your husband of over 60 years.
But no bother.
All that matters now is that you are happy, that you are safe, and that you are not forgotten in your new home.
Your personality still shines through the incoherence though. Your laugh, your southern drawl and those beautifully kind eyes that you can’t see out of anymore are all still there.
It was hard to see you. It was wonderful to see you.
While it’s a challenge to focus on much anymore, please know that you are loved by so many, including me.
I hope you are warm. I hope you are well cared for. I hope you don’t keep trying to escape the building.
You don’t know me anymore . . .
. . . but I know you.
And who knows? Next time I’m in town I may take you up on your offer and we’ll run away together.
It’s never too late for an adventure with a strange man that loves you.
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