My Mom, Patti, soon to be 85 and in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease, can’t really carry on a “sensible” conversation anymore.
Mom’s friend Gaby is 97. While Mom has lost most of her marbles, Gaby still has all but a few of hers.
You wouldn’t think one word at the end of a tweet from someone you don’t “know,” retweeted by someone else you don’t “know,” would make you cry. But it did.
Actually, to be honest, it was the combination of the tweet, the “DITTO!”, and the tune to which the tweet linked that made me cry.
The words “lost and found” always make me think of amazing grace.
Not of lost mittens or keys or caps or a single red shoe. Nor of the “lost and founds” one must call in search of them. No.
“Lost and found” makes me think of amazing grace:
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind, and now I see… Continue reading