i L i n d . n e t

I visited with my father yesterday afternoon in the nursing home where he’s been for the past couple of weeks after getting out of Queen’s Hospital.

He asked me what the date was, and I told him it was December 22nd.

He thought hard about that, staring into space for several long seconds as mental calculations were done, then gave me a hard look.

“Tomorrow is our anniversary,” he said, slowly. “I haven’t been able to do my banking or errands,” he said, perhaps oblivious to the month that has passed since he fell at home and wound up in the hospital.

“Can you make sure that Helen gets a big bouquet of flowers? Nice ones?”

And, of course, I assured him that it would be done. Actually, my sister had already set the flowers in motion.

I don’t know if it’s possible to “celebrate” their anniversary under these circumstances. But, in their own way, I’m sure they will.

In any case, here’s a quick look at how the day started. It’s as good a day as any to have an anniversary.

Next year #70.