A Daisy Chain in Dementiaville

Romeo and I sit in the TV room with a host of other nursing home residents, watching the news. On my right, Romeo sits in his wheelchair. We hold hands.

As the weather report comes on, another resident whom I'll call Sarah, is wheeled in. I have seen her many times before. She has always appeared to be in a trance, not quite in this world but not quite out of it either. I have never heard her say anything, not one word.

It's crowded in the TV room, but there's a space next to me. A nursing assistant wheels Sarah into the room and parks her to my left. Everyone is quiet, eyes on the television. After a few minutes, I feel someone pick up my left hand and slip it into hers. She holds my hand, squeezing it gently over and over again. I turn my head and see Sarah, holding my hand, smiling, still gently and happily squeezing my hand.

She makes eye contact with me! She turns her head to face me. She smiles, her eyes looking directly at me, then at our entwined hands, then back again to my eyes. She gently squeezes my hand again and again. I feel the love circulating between us. It travels from Sarah through me to Romeo, back through me and then through Sarah. A sort of daisy chain of love. I don't even notice as the five-day forecast comes on screen. Who cares about the weather when such sweet and innocent and sincere love is present?

Throughout our time together and during this journey that Romeo and I have undertaken with his dementia, we have been to many unknown places, experienced many surprising and wild moments. Yet here is another, an unexpected soul-filled moment, another opening of the heart.