Yesterday, we had a pre-roadtrip field trip. Anne and I and Edie and Ron drove west to visit DJ, our old friend. DJ is in a home now, after becoming too much for her daughter to handle. This is doubly sad, because I came to know her as the paramour and eventual caretaker of my old friend Don, who died of Alzheimer’s. I’m not sure if she remembered us. She certainly didn’t remember our names, but over the course of our visit she seemed to come back to us, at least a little bit. Her home is a small affair, about seventy residents, almost all women. I guess that this is a cup that I shall not drink from.

Many of the residents were quiet, almost comatose, but a few were active. One woman came up to us and angrily asked us to leave, because this was her home. Another woman carried a baby doll wrapped in a blanket. She did this so lovingly, I kept checking to see if the baby was real. It was obviously real to her. We spoke of old times and old bike rides. I recalled the time that DJ and Don first met and other elements of their early courtship. We all had stories to tell and through it all DJ listened. She didn’t speak much, but she did seem to smile more. Time flew, but eventually it was time to leave.