Cloudy, with the chance of memory

            Mom does not describe her short-term memory as cloudy but as indeterminate.  She comments that it is really strange to have only pieces and shreds of memory.  She says that conversation with the other residents at Home Place is fragmented at best and hopes she herself does not contribute too many non sequiturs.

            That’s my mother for you:  though she can’t remember what she said two minutes ago, she still has command of an impressive vocabulary.

            She had some pressing questions for me today as well:  Why do we live in Washington?  How long have I lived at Home Place?  When will I see John?  What day is it today?  How often do you come to visit?  What am I supposed to do today?

            During the course of our hour together, I answered her questions simply and honestly as many times as she asked them.  Her mood, aside from the confusion she kept mentioning, was good.  She really wanted to know her recent history and was glad I was there to tell it. 

Our conversation branched out a little further as well.  She lit right up when I talked about my new responsibilities as an elder.  She remembered her own years of church involvement and asked several times if I was a lay speaker.  “No,” I answered.  “That’s okay,” she said, “you will be eventually.”

When I left, we both were smiling over her precise use of “indeterminate.”  As I entered the combination and opened the door leading to the front entrance, she said, “Oh, yes.  You go down that long hallway and then out the front.”  Grinning, she added, “See?  I remembered.”