One Man's Pheasant Is Another Man's Roadrunner

So.....we're driving home from the ALF (assisted living facility) after our visit with Mom (Dad's first since last month.)

We're coming up and over the first hill once you get off the Hood Canal Bridge toward Sequim. I'm trying to wrap my head around the fact that Dad's been surprisingly and almost alarmingly quiet the whole way home so far. This strikes me as odd because all of us were pretty much convinced that Dad would be all atwitter when he saw Mom's new digs--located right on the bay, beautiful views, baby grand piano in the lobby, friendly staff--we even entertained the thought that Dad might want to move in with her. We had visions of him hobbling through the place, up and down the halls, poking his nose into all of the sitting rooms, checking the menu in the dining room, looking for handouts, flirting shamelessly with the staff, etc.

None of that happened.

No atwittering at all.

And not because Mom was morose or depressed. She was (thank goodness!) alert, smiling, and, as the staff has told me repeatedly on the phone when I've called, "quite pleasant." They were exactly right. Mom was really quite, quite pleasant! She and I had a lovely, animated visit. I even made her laugh when I challenged her to play Chopsticks with me on the piano.

But Dad was quiet, withdrawn even. Until about ten minutes to three when he suddenly stood up and announced that we needed to leave to "beat the snow" that was forecast this evening.

We said our goodbyes, exchanged hugs, all without any tears or displays of panic. Dad and I got back into the Jeep and buckled ourselves up. Dad said to me, "SHE WAS SEDATED."

"What? No. No she wasn't Dad. Mom wasn't sedated" I told him immediately because his remark really took me by surprise. Mom was more alert than I've seen her in months, animated, spry even.

"SHE WAS TOO QUIET" he said.

In other words, he couldn't hear her. Which...........emphasizes to me the fact that Dad's hearing is getting worse (which we've noticed), but of course, Dad automatically thinks he couldn't hear Mom because she was talking too softly, and she was talking too softly because she was sedated. (Damn. Old people's logic is exhausting!)

I tried again to let Dad know how well I thought Mom was doing. "Mom started laughing when I told her we should play the piano together, did you see that Dad?"

Nothing. I got maybe a grunt. That was all.

So I kind of figured maybe Dad was having a geriatric reality check and just needed to be left to his own thoughts. We drove in silence.....until we got across the Hood Canal Bridge, and over the first hill. It was then that I saw this.........bird....thing.....walking across the road. Walking. A bird. Across the road. (Yes, to get to the other side.) But walking. Not flying. The bird was big, the size of a large rooster, but thinner. All the cars slowed down for it to cross. And as I got closer I saw.......it was a male pheasant, a beautiful, spectacular male pheasant, taking its own sweet time, sauntering across Highway 104, stopping traffic without so much as a howdoyoudo.

I reached across the seat and whacked Dad in the arm, "HEY! Look! It's a pheasant!"

He looked. "WHAT?" He looked again. "LOOKS LIKE A DIRTY OLE ROADRUNNER."

And I thought for a moment, and reflected, and assessed, and paused while watching that magnificent animal make its way across the asphalt. Then I simply said, "No Dad. That is definitely a pheasant."