What A Difference…

I hadn’t seen my dad for about a year, which wasn’t so unusual during recent years, since I’d moved away. What struck me though, as I walked into my childhood home, was how much he had changed in that relatively short period.

I’d heard my mother’s weekly assessment of his declining abilities, but she had been saying such things for years; "someone should ride along with your dad, I’m not sure he’ll remember where he is," or "your dad doesn’t talk much anymore." But he’d always seemed fine to me.

Not now.

Much had changed since the summer of 2010.