Sweet beloved Lacy

When I arrived at Lacy's apartment 11:30 am, he was in bed.  He'd been sleeping most of the morning.  I went into his room, and he was awake, but just lying on the bed.
"It's my mom!"  Lacy was pleased.  "Hey, Mom, today is June 25, 2012.  It's my birthday!"  Lacy has been mixed up about days of the week and dates for some time.

"Happy Birthday, son!" I smiled at him, and patted his arm.  "I brought you a chicken sandwich and a fountain drink for your birthday."

His eyes lit up.  "I knew you would understand.  My sweet beloved Mom."

"How old are you today?"  Fishing for his orientation to year and date.

"Today I'm 71, but I look young for my age."

We discussed how his great-grandma had lived to be 98 and that she always looked young, too.  He happily got up out of bed, and went with me to the community kitchen to eat.

I'd brought exactly what he liked - crispy chicken sandwich, large fountain drink with no ice, french fries - and he started to eat.  About three bites into the meal, his expression changed.  He looked at me suspiciously.  Getting up out of his seat, he marched to the trash can and threw his sandwich away.

"I'm not going to eat this crap!" Off Lacy went to his apartment.

And that was the end of our visit.  I let him cool down for a few minutes, then went to say goodbye, but he still wasn't talking to me.  He did let me hug and kiss him, but pushed past me to talk to someone in the corner of his kitchen.

We had 20 minutes of sweet conversation.  Twenty minutes of connection.  That's a good visit.  I love my sweet beloved Lacy.

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