Try to Remember

I've been coming over to Alex's house to work for about a year now. It's become habit... it also helps that she lets me do my laundry. (I finally moved near the great laundromat, and I don't need it anymore.)

I love visiting Alex; often I come over just to play with Lily, her daughter. Playing with Lil always makes me smile.

And often I talk to Bob, Alex's father.

Bob, for those who don't read Alex's blog (a mistake you should immediately rectify), has Alzheimer's.

When Bob was younger, he said that if anything like this ever happened to him, please shoot him. Which, as Alex says, is not quite a viable option.

I know it's hard for her to see him not be the person he was before. But I never knew Bob then. And I still know that he's funny, and that he's devoted to her. But it must be disconcerting, that a man who hated soaps and talk shows more than anything, now loves Dr. Phil and Noggin and watches the Bold and the Beautiful.

There are good days and there are bad days. Although I am familiar to him (Alex says he calls me Kyrceson, mixing my name with Pearson Education, our employer), Bob always, shamefully, tells me that he has forgotten my name.

Today I came over to Alex's house to work. The door was locked, I knocked, and Bob opened it.

"Hello, Kyrce."

Good days are nice to see.