In the past decade, my mom has been to my house hundreds of times. Today she shared that she was having trouble remembering. She kept trying to come up with the name of the place she was … “Don’t tell me.” This went on for about 1/2 hour as we were hanging out before lunch.
I ran upstairs and got my scrapbook — the one my mom made and gave to me when I graduated from college. I gave pages to both my parents to look at and that seem to engage them in a way that was comforting. The reminiscence therapy seemed to calm my mom.
After she asked me where the scrapbook came from, for the fifth time, she blurted out “1987, 97, 107 … that’s 40 years.” While the math wasn’t quite right, it sure did level out her disposition today. Reflected.