We went out for lunch yesterday. Although usually, we have breakfast instead. When I was a little girl, sometimes she'd make breakfast for dinner - pancakes and eggs and bacon - and it seemed like a magical thing.
And also, frankly, at noon on Sunday, I'm more ready for breakfast than I am for lunch, and mom likes pancakes, so there ya go.
She speaks softly in a kind of stream-of-consciousness way these days, all, "... and there's a red one, and a blue one, and a yellow one! ... exit ... that sign says exit ... and there were birds! Big birds ... so then I told her, "No, YOU behave!," and we all laughed ... and there's another bird, over there ..."
And all the time, I'm cutting up her pancakes for her, 'cause she can't seem to grasp the mechanics of silverware anymore, and I'm putting the cream and sugar in her coffee and stirring it up, and I'm listening to her talk about birds and exit signs.
And I mean ... it is what it is. She once was one person, and now she's another person. And I am sure there are other people yet to come. I just hope that in the next phase, she can see the future or tell me some winning lottery numbers or something. Wouldn't that be cool?