We are nothing without our memories. This is one of the terrible aspects of Alzheimer’s.

Mom’s attention fluctuates greatly. We are walking outside noticing the red hibiscus when she veers off course and tells me she’s looking for something in her bag. I stand patiently while Mom opens every zipper pocket, takes out things she’s squirreled away—like a bottle top or three pretzels wrapped in a napkin—then puts them back into their respective spaces. If for a fleeting moment she knew what she was looking for, the image or idea of that thing is now long gone. “Here’

It was so much fun catching up with my aunt Barbara—Mom’s real sister—who is visiting with her partner Brian that I almost forgot to interact with Mom. We did our share of laughing and singing, but my focus was directed elsewhere, and I was reminded again how fragile, how tenuous is Mom’s connection to reality. These are heady days for Israel. Today is Yom Hazikaron, the national day of remembrance for soldiers and victims of terror. Last night, at the start of Memorial Day,