Maxzyne and the Old Horse Theatre

The Good Old Days

I just dropped off a birthday gift for my Dad at the post office. After retiring to SC with my mother 20 years ago, he is now her caregiver, overseeing everything as her memory unravels and she requires more help doing the simplest of things. She also sleeps for long stretches of time so the quiet waiting can be lonely. He recently confided that he finds himself thinking a lot about the "good old days" now. Hmmm. Did he realize those were truly the good days when he was living them? I picture him arriving home after a long workday and grueling commute, accosted by dramatic shrieks between fighting sisters, while the comforting smell of meatloaf wafts through the kitchen. Of course, my mother snaps her fingers at us. "Girls, your father's home. Why isn't the table set?"Just an ordinary day. It made me think about my own life - am I aware that right now, this day, yes, this moment, is already a "good old day"? I need to pay more attention. Savor these days of mine before they're old and cast in the golden light of the past. So what did I give him? A journal and pen. I'd like to know his memories of those "good old days" and give him a reason to keep remembering.