Wal-mart Wal-nuts

Dad is very talkative today.

“ I missed you almost insanely. I had a feeling that you were off for the wilderness and never coming back.” Dad tells me. “I would never do that,” I say, shocked. He continues, “After you left, I was distracted, I couldn’t think of anything else but you, I wandered around. I’m not crazy, but I was practically hysterical five minutes after you left. I was very depressed. I think you’re far and away the most pleasant easy-going person I have ever known.”

He also is thinking about the blindness again. He says, “You can tell. You can watch the things go by. Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes. Each a little less less less less and then it stops. And this stopped about a week ago.

Then he starts in on a strange story: “As I remember it, a guy paid a balance, he put in money, he was there, he took his clothes off and did something. One day one person, the next day another person. But I assume it’s you , because you’re definitely a person to jump into it. What the other guy did, I don’t know. I know I’m half crazy, but anyway.” For the record, I have never taken my clothes off in the bank.

I heat up his lunch, and then give him a slice of cheesecake. “I don’t think there’s much cheese in it, it’s all sweet, but it’s gorgeous. If I eat this every day, I’d be one hundred pounds heavier,” he says.

When he’s done, he surveys the sticky mess in front of him and says, in French, “I need to clean the table.” He gathers up some trash and then looks confused. “Put that in the garbage,” I tell him. “Where’s the garbage?” he asks. “On the doorknob.” This is where Dad has stored his garbage, in re-used plastic grocery bags, my entire lifetime. On his way across the room, he says “cat, get out of the way.” I’m puzzled because the cat is sleeping on the couch. Then I realize he’s talking to my socks, which I have left on the floor! “Those are my socks,” I tell him. “I thought they were a cat,” he says – never mind that the socks are black and his cat is white.

Watching me try to deal with the vast amount of white fur Kristen is shedding, Dad remarks “the cat must dream up a lot of hair.”

“What are we having for dinner tomorrow?” Dad asks. “I’m making rosemary pasta with walnuts. I’m bringing rosemary from my garden.” “Wal-mart?” “No, walnuts, it’s a nut, like almonds, pecans, walnuts,” I try to explain. “Is it?” says Dad.