A dry Saturday afternoon, scents of spring and birdsong in the air. In the nursing home, I find her in her room.
"Would you like to go out for a wee while?"
"Oh, I'd love to go out. I've not been out since ...Sunday!"
Wednesday's visit to the heritage centre for tea, cake and a wander round the shop gone then. And Friday's time at the day centre, with their usual outing, also missing.
Outdoor clothes assembled, we make our escape. The waitress in the cafe is smiling and kind and directs us to a booth. We sit waiting for our order with a table for four between us. I can't ask questions about the morning or lunch - it's not fair when she can't remember. We stall in our conversation and we smile at each other. Looking in my bag I find a small, bright pink, power-ball and roll it towards her on the table. Pleased, she rolls it back, and, alert, she follows my fingers as I return it. Smiling and completely unselfconscious, she continues the game for several minutes, totally absorbed. Perfectly happy in the here and now.
