I can’t Find my Slippers

After breakfast, this is Saturday, so breakfast is waffles with fruit, and after some tea she announces; I am going to take my shower now and get cleaned up.

I reply, I will be alert for thumps.

This is a conversation we have often when she is off to freshen up and start her day. I tease her about falling over in the shower. Grab bars are installed in our shower stall and although some day this situation will probably not work for her, for now, it is what we have.

I settle into my chair with a new cup of coffee and the Saturday WSJ to catch up on the nuances of Argentina’s default on its debt for the nth time.

She comes racing back from the bath area. I look up and ask her, can I help you? She replies, I can’t find my slippers as she walks over to the front door to look near the chair where she changes shoes to go out.

As I look over to where she is heading and get ready to start the expedition to recover the lost slippers, I gently point out to her that her slippers are on her feet. She looks down again and laughs. Giggling slightly, she returns to the bathroom to take a shower and freshen up.

Everyone at sometime or other has lost track of something hidden in plan sight. Sometimes for a parkie it is a panic. It heartens me that she is not apathetic to the disappearance of her slippers. She still cares about life and things around her.

As I think about her and this funny little life situation, I realize how important she is to me and how much I care about her well being. (Edie Kynard calls them “Aha moments” in her prayer.)

Seems like love in its many nuanced presentation.

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