“My mom’s memory is like a window opening and closing.” That’s what my co-worker Lisa said to me, a few years ago. I thought I knew what she meant, but I didn’t. Not really. Now, I get it. My dad is down to Mahoosuc Green, our senior living facility here in town. He bought in a few years after my mom died, and had the cutest little apartment in the independent living wing, Dirigo Way. But, a few months into lockdown, I got the call, “Ida, we feel your father’s no longer Dirigo Way material.” Ouch! I guess Dad needed a little more help with things. You know, like showering, cueing (reminding him when he’s …

I used to hate getting “Ma’am-ed.” You know what I’m talking about. “Are you ready to order, ma’am?” Sometimes, I’d even say, “Did you just ma’am me?” Being called ma’am is a sign of respect if you live down south. But up north, it just means you’re old. But now, I seem to have progressed to a whole other level. Ma’am has become “dear, “hon” or “Miss.” That’s the one I hate the most. “Miss.” Like I’ve become so elderly, I’ve traveled past ma’am and am back where I started. Charlie’s noticed it, too, but being called “hon” by the gals waiting on him seems to put a bounce in his step. I don’t have …

On our morning walk around our neighborhood, Charlie and me see lots of birds: sparrow, blue jays, crows, chickadees, of course, a few hawks and even a robin or two. Canada geese, in season. But every once and awhile we’ll see a Pileated Woodpecker. Not one of them little guys, but the Woody Woodpecker ones? That’s always a treat because they are spectacular looking. I mean, that red! The Pileated is a big bird and, boy, it makes a racket hammering away. You think they’d be easy to see, but they’re not. Most of the time you hear them, but can’t find where they are. Charlie and me must look like idiots, stopped in the …

Tomorrow’s the day, people: the official cut off for Christmas decorations. And none too soon. Why a couple of weekends ago, Charlie and me are taking a Sunday drive, and I become a little irritated. “Would you look at that?” I ask. “What?” Charlie replies. “All these Christmas decoration everywhere. It’s the middle of January, for God’s sake!” “You say that every year. Besides, technically they have ‘til Groundhog Day.” “I know, but the real Christmas-y stuff should come down sooner, in my opinion. Like look at that place there. It’s just not right.” Charlie pulls over in front of the house in question. “What are you doing, Charlie?” “Why don’t you leave them a …