Beula tells me almost every time I see her that I should never grow old. “Dying would be better than this,” she says. I fix meals for Ed and Beula 3 times a week. Yesterday as I was getting ready to go, I couldn’t find my car keys. Finally Beula asked Ed to check his pockets. Keys found. “I thought they were mine,” he honestly answered. You see, Ed suffers from memory loss and Beula suffers from an aging body. I’m not sure which is worse.
I often wonder 60 years from now how I’ll be. It’s rather difficult to avoid aging despite Beula’s warnings. I've decided that dying holding the hand of my husband who has the someone’s else car keys in his pocket wouldn’t be all that bad, as long as he remembers my name.
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