Going home

It’s a mystery to most of us, but come sundown or thereabouts our pwd will fervently express a desire to “go home.”

Oh, honey, good news we’re here. Burt’s response “I’ll take your word for it.” Yes, we don’t have to travel or anything.

There are other occasions when he’s eager to go home. As soon as we’ve left the house. I think that’s a dementia thing, too.

Burt told me all week how much he loves going out on Saturday and Sunday.

We are barely out of the lobby, he’s asking where we’re going, a question I returned to him. Well, where would you like to go? [You know I meant which of the destinations we usually choose.] He said “home. I want to go home.”

This has the feeling of being my proforma weekly post. I am stuck in not understanding his antsy behavior.

Today’s solution: we’ll stay on the move. A little bit of time at the playground; go over to the ice cream parlor; stop by the river.

Hope we’ll run into someone we know en route to perk him up.