237 North Oracle

I picked him up to take him to his first day of school

for Alzheimer’s patients.

He’s got a fresh haircut

a new blue shirt

and his tan pants are a little

too short.

He’s 59 years old and he looks scared

and innocent

skinny

timid.

He clutches his little bag

and he’s got his name on his

shirt:

Tod Phelps.

I feel sad for him and yet

I like his company

he doesn’t talk

and just looks out the

window.

After 6 hours at school

I pick him up to take him

home again.

He seems a little happier.

He’s holding 3 big pieces of paper

which he puts in his lap

and all the way home

he keeps looking at

them.

One paper has a picture of a dog

and underneath the dog

it says:

ANIMAL

in big child-like handwriting.

On another paper

there is a picture of a tree

and it says:

TREE

and on the other paper

there is a mountain and it says:

MOUNTAIN.

He looks at each one over

and over again

and moves his lips

saying the words.

When we get close to his house

he says,

“Oh, turn in there, 237

North Oracle”

which I already know

of course

but I say

“Oh, thanks, I almost

missed it.”

He is so proud to remember his address

and his eyes light up

at the familiarity of home

where his 80 year old mother

waits for him

with a plateful of warm

chocolate chip cookies.

END