The Art of Remembering

The Art of Remembering

Inside of a red brick building, is Covenant Village, an assisted living home. On the second floor, down the red carpet hall with a plant that almost looks real is the home of two significant people.

    Behind the door of 1508 is a welcoming sight. The dining table, though brown is soft and cool to the touch. The tablecloth is a silky white, with lace surrounding all four corners. Two tall, light blue candles sit in the center. The yellow and orange flame glows on the fresh wicks, creating a sense of home on a table where many have feasted over the years. The plates are so antique and cared for, they almost seem too precious to serve food on. 

Any guest entering this home would notice a strong sense of family. There are a variety of family photos everywhere, but one picture stands out in particular. A man in his 80’s is standing next to a girl who looks about 20. Though they both have blue eyes, the girl’s mood is different than the man’s. Her eyes twinkle, and she has her arm around him, gripping tightly, as if she never wants to let go. Though they are both smiling, the man is smiling only slightly. Beneath his clear glasses, his eyes as blue as the sea do not twinkle.  In fact, they aren’t even looking at the camera. It is possible something was distracting him, but more probable he is looking for an answer.

    In the living room, all of the possessions suggest the people living here have been around for quite some time. On the tall, dark brown bookshelf are several books, specifically about World War II. A tiny wooden, handmade dark blue plane sits in the center, bringing meaning to the shelf. On the top of the plane in sparkling gold are the words, “RICH”, who is coincidentally, the owner of many of these keepsakes.

    In the bedroom is Rich himself, staring around the room, as if he is taking everything in for the first time. As he wonders where his wife is, he reaches for his cane, becoming absorbed in the details of it. All of his canes he made himself, and he could never forget where they came from. His best friend Larry had given him wood from each of the trees on his land, and carved the type of tree on each one. Though it was years ago, Rich had made them into canes to honor Larry, and to make sure he was never forgotten. As he ran his wrinkled hands over the smooth surface of his cane, he felt lost without his best friend, even now. Remembering he was about to go look for his wife, he used his cane to stand up from the bed. He headed out of the room, and for some reason put the cane inside the bedroom closet before walking into the living room.

    He found his wife in the kitchen, cooking a delicious meal. “Bet, whatcha doing?  It’s awfully late to be cooking, don’t you think? I was waiting for you to come to bed.”

    Betty stared at him, looking perplexed. “It’s only 5:30. Don’t you remember? You said you were going to take a nap, and you’d be up in time for dinner.”

    Rich looked down at the floor and stared at the white carpet. Did he say that? He certainly hadn’t taken a nap, but sat on the bed for a while. He was sure they’d already eaten that night, but couldn’t quite remember.

    Betty caught his attention and told him not to worry. If he sat down in his chair, she’d have dinner ready soon. Forgetting his confusion, he smiled in agreement, but he wanted his cane first. He walked into the living room, towards the television. He always put the cane in the corner, so he’d always know where to look. He stopped suddenly. Where did it go? There was only one explanation for this. He hurried frantically back into the kitchen.

    “Betty!! Betty!! Someone’s stolen my cane!!”

    “Calm down, Richard! No one has stolen your cane. What are you talking about?” 

    Betty managed to calm him down, and convinced him to look for it. After looking in every nook and cranny, they reached the bedroom closet. There it was, unharmed and in perfect condition.

    Rich stared before gripping onto it tightly. He couldn’t remember putting it there, and he couldn’t remember telling Betty he wanted to take a nap that day. This wasn’t the first time his days were strange and confusing. He looked at his wife, as she embraced him, trying to reassure him everything was alright. Letting go of her, his chin quivered as he struggled to find the words he’d been thinking for weeks.

    “Bet…what’s happening? What’s wrong with me? Why do I keep forgetting?”

    She merely just looked back at him, unable to answer what seemed to be a simple question. In some ways, she wanted to tell him, but maybe it was better he didn’t know. Sometimes she wondered how Rich would respond if he knew he had Alzheimer’s.  

On most days, Rich could be found in his chair on the deck watching the sunset. He was often scanning the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of an airplane or two. But today, he was thinking about other things. He was worried about what was ahead for him. Sure, he wasn’t young anymore, but it didn’t seem as though others his age were as forgetful as he was. He often felt lost, and didn’t know what to do, or what it all meant. Just the other day, he had tried to shine his shoes just as he’d done a couple times a week for years. He poured too much out of the bottle and it went all over the bathroom floor. The mess took Betty all afternoon to clean up, and yet again, left Rich feeling sad and confused.

    Standing up from his chair, Rich headed back into the house toward the bathroom to find the one thing that always seemed to comfort him. He couldn’t help but smile as he glanced at the painting of a PBY plane, reminding him of the days in the war. He could still recall the meaning of those simple letters, PB stood for “Patrol Bomber” and Y represented the code used for the aircraft’s manufacturer. He gazed at the wings of the PBY, remembering it like it was yesterday.

    It was a hot day in Corpus Christi, Texas, but Rich didn’t care. He was too proud to be serving his country to notice the sweat trickling down his face. He looked down at his uniform, feeling honored to be such an important part of the crew. The year was 1942, and Rich was preparing the plane to be ready for takeoff. This particular PBY held 250 gallons of gas, and only landed in the water. The crew consisted of two pilots, a navigator, a radio man, and someone in the tail of the airplane with a machine gun. Rich looked at the magnificent wings of the plane, feeling ready to do his duty. As the flight engineer, he had the responsibility of making sure the plane was completely ready before it was time to go.

    As the PBY took off into the air, Rich closed his eyes and grinned. There were no words to describe the feeling he had when he was in the air. It was so freeing to have his crew counting on him, knowing he wouldn’t let them down. Sitting in the middle between the two wings, he felt this was right. He was meant to be on a plane, and would be happy to do it forever.

    Opening his eyes, he found himself back in his bathroom. If he tried hard enough, he could almost hear the sound of the engine, and the graceful feeling as the plane landed on the clear, blue water. What he would give to be young again, and to see his beloved plane again. Whenever he had memories like that from the War, he felt much more at peace. His daily life was certainly discouraging and confusing, but when he remembered those times, he didn’t feel quite as lost anymore.

    He walked back into the living room towards the television. As he went to grab the remote, he stopped as something on the top of the television caught his eye. It was a figurine of a German Shepherd dog, that looked almost identical to someone he used to know.

    Renny was the dog’s name. His fur was soft, and his beautiful dark brown coat made it hard not to pet him all the time. Rich giggled as he and Renny played catch in the backyard. He loved the way Renny’s ears stuck straight in the air. As he excitedly brought the ball back to Rich, his loving eyes gazed up at his owner. It almost seemed Renny could see right through him with those brown eyes, something Rich knew he wouldn’t ever forget. He could hear his mom calling him that dinner was ready, but he didn’t care. Wrestling around in the grass with Renny seemed far more exciting than helping set the table. Rich ran his hands through Renny’s fur, holding him as close to him as he could.

    Running his fingers over the cool texture of the figurine, Rich laughed to himself, remembering how much fun Renny had been to be around. He certainly didn’t need a dog anymore, but he admitted he missed those eyes sometimes. Setting the figurine back down, Rich seemed to forget why he was in the living room in the first place. He walked towards the door of the apartment and opened it, looking up and down the hall. He looked at the jade plant at the end of the hall. No matter how many times he looked at it, he was always amazed how real it looked. If it weren’t for that plant, he would never know which hallway he lived on. Knowing Betty would be furious if she caught Rich leaving their home by himself, he shut the door and turned back to face the living room.

    Rich thought of all the houses he’d lived in throughout his life. He and Betty had lived in Nebraska for many years, as well as their place in Broomfield. Every time he had moved, sure he missed the previous place, but he’d grown accustomed to wherever he was at the current time. Eventually, each place began to feel like home to him. But what did home really mean? Was it being surrounded by loved ones? Having a certain amount of possession that contains special meaning? Was it the location? Rich really wasn’t sure anymore. He didn’t know if he could say Covenant Village felt like home, but he certainly liked it alright. And maybe that was enough.

    He really couldn’t make sense of what was happening to him, or what the future held. After all, he could hardly remember what day it was anymore. Who was to say, in a few months, he could remember where he was from, and how he got here. Just the very thought frightened him to his core, which was why he tried not to let his mind go to that place. It was much better to focus on the positive things he had to be thankful for, rather than any danger that was yet to come.

    Rich had no idea just how right he was. The third stage of Alzheimer’s was approaching, which would only mean more confusing days, as well as forgetting his loved ones, and eventually himself. While he seemed to know something was wrong with him, he had no idea what that something was. Perhaps Betty had been right – maybe it was better for him not to know.  

    Down the hallway with the jade plant that almost looks real, Rich could be found on the porch of his apartment. Listening to the chirping birds, watching people go by, and gazing at the lake in the distance, Rich felt a sense of comfort and contentment. For now, that’s all he could ask for, and all he needed.