Dementia Stories

Though her voice creaked like the worn armchair in which she sat, Elsie still had a piercing gaze that conveyed a playful sharpness within. "Sit with me, child." I stopped folding the sheets and perched on the edge of the bed opposite her slightly hunched frame, smoothing my aqua tunic bearing the care home insignia. Waited. And waited. It sometimes took a while to gather her thoughts and process information, yet other ti...