Poof.

So........Mom had an optometrist's appointment yesterday. I'll break down the day in numerical snippets.

1. First stop--optometrist in Port Angeles. Mom's left cataract is getting bigger. New prescription will hopefully be enough to stave off corrective surgery. Doc does that test where he blows a puff of air into the eye. He says, "Okay Patricia, you're going to feel a little air, like a little Poof!" I take a photo of Mom sitting in the chair with that big monstrosity they make you look into. She looks like a geriatric alien in a dress.

2. Next stop--Mom's favorite hairdresser in Sequim for a "real hairdo" (Not the one she gets at the ALF. For some reason, when the hairdresser at the ALF does Mom's hair, it doesn't last long. By the next day, she looks like she just woke up, all day. I think it's all about the hairspray.) I walk into the salon to retrieve Mom and she looks up at me, smiles a big grin and says, "Look, I'm poofy again!"

3. I take Mom to lunch in Sequim, to another one of her favorite places. Like last weeks' lunch excursion in Port Angeles, the waitresses here also recognize her, greet her warmly with embraces and warm smiles. They treat Mom like royalty. She eats it, and her beef barley, up.

4. After lunch, we start to head out of Sequim toward Poulsbo. Mom asks casually about the "kitty cats," the dogs, and Dad (not necessarily in that order). I assess Mom's unusual lucidity and consider that since we have extra time, perhaps this would be a good day to maybe take Mom home for a short visit. I keep assessing as Mom and I continue to chit-chat. She talks about the sunflowers that I planted last year in front of the house in Sequim. Am I going to plant them again, she asks.

I think, man! she seems unusually lucid and clear-headed today.

I think about how Dad keeps asking me, since Mom is doing so well, if I think she can possibly come home some day.

I reflect on my observation that she's really the only resident in the dementia wing at the ALF who can actually carry on a conversation.

I think about that tiny voice in my head that keeps nagging at me, "Mom doesn't belong there! Bring her home!"

I think, she seems to be in a really good place today. Maybe a visit home WOULD be a good idea for her. Today anyway.

I decide to bite the bullet.

I take a breath. Then I say to her, "Hey Mom, wanna stop by the house?"

And she stops. Probably a ten second pause here. The lucidity screeches to a halt.

"What house?"

And just like that, it was gone. Mom was there. And then she wasn't.

Poof.