“Daddy, you didn’t take your pills.”
“I did take my pills.”
“No they are still on the counter.”
Daddy remembered seventy wonderful years with his wife,
But not that there had been two different wives.
He remembered the fear and confusion as a young sailor at Pearl Harbor,
But not where to find the door to the back yard.
In his bed at hospice, he didn’t recognize me.
He didn’t recognize my daughter.
He didn’t recognize his neighbor.
But he petted and remembered and held our little poodle mutt.

Sometimes I forget things.