Snow day

Dad still affects to hate going to his daycare. I think he actually is fine while he’s there. The folks there certainly think he is. He’s sociable, reasonably active, chats up the ladies…. I think it’s more the idea of it than the fact of it that has him stomping in here for tea at 4:00, grumbling and complaining about his never-ending trip home on the brutal roads of rural-suburban Connecticut. This morning I got a call from the center, saying they were not opening because of the weather. When I went across to tell him, he reacted exactly as I used to when they called off school: relief and utter joy at the fact that I’d be in control of my own life for an unexpected day. Dad still wants the same thing, but these days he can only have the best illusion I can provide. My mom had early-onset Alzheimer’s, and dad retired and spent years doing the same thing for her. But he’s forgotten that now. The other day he asked me what her name was.

January 14, 2012, 88th birthday.


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