She's Not Always Where I Expect

We went to Lowe's recently. My husband had sent me after plumbing supplies and Dossie had agreed to ride around with? me since it was a pleasant mid-spring day.?

Unlike our usual outings, this time she wasn't thirsty. I was. Very thirsty. So, like a savvy child, when I didn't get the answer I wanted, I waited a while and changed the question to, "Hey, would you like to get some lemonade from Chik-fil-A?” There's three beverages she likes, and lemonade is her favorite.

I like to do what she chooses and I'm not unkind in my intentions, so I don't consider leading her decisions as a bad manipulation.

And, of course, we had to get a large waffle fry to share.?

Sharing food is a thing we just recently started doing because she likes to order large portions but leaves behind a lot, and I prefer a few bites and detest food waste. Remember though, we've only been friends for going on two years though we've been family-friend acquaintances since my boyfriend introduced us 30 years ago.

The other thing I've adjusted to is she likes to park and eat.

It was a sunny day and pretty warm, so looking for a pleasant spot to eat our snack in her bright blue Jeep was no small feat.

Since I really just wanted to stuff my face and get to Lowe's so we could do other things, I drove towards its parking lot and found a sapling planted near the storage barns. Our view was of a grassy mound and incoming cars, but we didn't mind

She told me the stories of how they rescued their fourth cat while she, Bonnie, and Lucy sat in their car drinking coffee behind McDonald's (a regular thing they did while tossing crumbs to the birds). I tried deflecting the stories of badly behaving family members who had thrown a book at Bonnie, had mental illness and should have seen a psychiatrist and how one of them had made her and I cry.?

Most of this happened decades ago and didn't define my life or harm me as a person, so I'd rather not dwell on it, but the monumental impact it had on her life makes it a constant conversation she wants to rehash.? Unlike my husband and I, she hadn't gotten away from the disapproval and censure that made her feel stupid and inept.

Finally, the last fry was gone and we pulled into the main parking lot near the cart return. I actually like parking near them for convenience and so it doesn't take her as long to return to the car.

My husband and daughter stick within three feet of Dossie when shopping, but I like giving her autonomy and having my freedom. I figured she'd be bored while I tried to find the threaded and solderable fittings and copper pipe, so I offered that she go to the garden center.

?I can go up and down every plant row enjoying the bright blooms and lush foliage. I forget that she could care less most days. She had said the week before that she'd really like to put flowers on Bonnie's grave, but she had forgotten this since...several times.

I reminded her again why she wanted to look at flowers and that I was headed to the plumbing section.

It took me longer to find my parts than I expected (I still took home several wrong couplings). I was surprised to see her rounding the corner with a smug smile when I looked up from the copper parts. She had six gourmet lollipops in her fist. Last time I think she bought 13 or 20, so this was an improvement.?

She can buy whatever she wants, but we don't like gourmet lollipops, and I know she'll want to share.

Her smile quickly disappeared as her confusion from short term memory loss resurfaced.

"I can't REMEMBER if I paid for them or not. I must have, right?"

I really had no idea. Some time back she had left a Mexican restaurant without paying because she thought she had, and I wasn't comfortable telling her, so I went back in on some pretext and paid myself.

Finally, we deduced that if she had bought the lollipops she would have a receipt. She did not; therefore, she had not bought them yet.

She pointed out three were for us.

I asked her why she wasn't looking at plants.

"Oh? I don't care about those." Just a few days ago we had spent hundreds òf dollars at the large greenhouse across town.

Okay.

I reminded her we were getting plants for Bonnie. She said she didn’t care what we put on: she just wanted flowers on the grave.?

I always try to find a bargain, deal or sale. She doesn't care. She worked as a nurse, saved and invested her money after paying off their house and now buys whatever she wants, regardless of price

Quickly we found a beautiful red and whìte petunia basket on the clearance rack.

This had been fast and easy.

She wandered off but we were easily reunited as we were walking tòward the checkout lines.?

She can disappear better than David Copperfield's airplane or a toddler with contraband. Finally, we and our purchases were headed to the Jeep, pushing the noisy blue cart so easily associated with big box stores.

I bungeed the copper pipes to the side frame and looked around for her. She still hadn’t gotten back to the Jeep.?

She doesn't like yard maintenance and is not able to carry heavy things, but she always puts the cart away after I stow purchases in the Jeep. Finally, I looked around for her. Remember I'd parked next to the cart return corral so it was just 10 steps away.

I spied her coming from way up the lot. She had pushed the big flatbed cart halfway up the parking lot then left it in lonely isolation diagonally abandoned across parking spaces.

I had no explanation for this one but had to knòw why she had done this.

Why was the cart now socializing with the parking lot lights on the outskirts?

Pause and see if you can figure this one out.

?

As I said sometimes I lose her in the store, especially going to the checkout line. When that's my destination, I'm a straight arrow; she on the other hand is the ADD poster child distracted by clearance clothes, reviewing her list for the sixth time, getting an apple or more cat treats, or snagging candy bars and cold sodas, which she slides in the cart like she might've done when shopping with her mother.

Back to today: I had lost her in the parking lot.

I'm always afraid I will really lose her or that when I see the police come to the store it will be because of her. But that's another story of the time the police were called because the librarian thought I abandoned her.

Back to the reason for her excursion up the lot: she had made it back to me by now.

Her answer this time was less amusing because it harkened to severe cognitive function loss: She hadn't been able to find the cart return spot. Regardless that one was beside and another behind us and a third just a bit further up. She had passed all those and gone beyond any parked vehicles then left the cart across several parking spaces and walked back to me.

?hen her mind fails her in situations like this she is bewildered and lonely and angry at herself.?

She doesn't understand why she can't remember, and she feels stupid. So, she tells me the stories again of the people in her life that have made her feel like an idiot and rejected her.?

And I let her talk because someday I might be in her shoes, and I want someone to treat me with dignity and patience. Someone who will give me space to be an adult but close enough that I can find them when I need them.