**This essay is the next in a series that deals with the topic of caring for an aging loved one, namely my mother. Be advised that these are intended to deal with the serious issue of cognitive decline, in a lighthearted and humorous way. Feel free to peruse those linked stories for more background or information.**
May 2022
On a walkabout in the park…
Mom: “You hear that frog, guy?”
Me: “Mmm hmm”
Mom: “I always loved catching frogs. Even as an adult. We went camping once near a pond and I dove in to catch a frog that had been ribbiting all day. I just wanted to hold him and look at him.”
Me: “Aww that’s a great memory, ma. Sounds vaguely familiar. I think I might have been along on that trip - I was like 6 or 7 maybe? Great recall!”
Mom: “Thanks, guy. Yeah, that’s a good one alright - locked away in the anals of my mind.”
Me: “Say what now?”
Mom: “I put it away. Deep within the anals of my mind.”
Me: Cheshire cat grin.
Mom: “I said that wrong didn’t I?”
Me: “Oh, I would posit that you’ve never said anything more right.”
Mom: “It’s annals, isn’t it?”
Me: “Yep.”
Long pause…
Mom: “Wait a second, did you just make a shit-for-brains joke?”
Me: “No, not intentionally. But now that you mention it - I can see how that holds water. Look at you, extrapolating insults!”
Mom: “Anals”
Me: “Nope”
Mom: “Shit. Annals.”
Me: “That is not going to help you remember it correctly at all.”
Mom: “Shit.”
Me: “Strike two.”
Mom: “Annals.”
Me: “And scene.”