One afternoon, when dementia was in vogue,
his dear wife walked from the dining room
to the living room
where he sat reading, to say
“There are strangers in the dining room”,
anxiety in her voice.
Without batting an eye, he put down his book
and said “It’s okay, honey, I’ll take care of it”.
And he did,
walking into the empty dining room,
letting his body
speak silent words to the invisible group,
and then ushering them out the side door.
“Are you okay now? he asked.
“Yes”, she said, “Thank you”.
He sat down to read again, feeling good about
his acting debut.
Minutes later, she looked out the side door,
and turned to her husband, anxious once more.
“What’s the matter?, he asked,
putting down his book.
“They’re still out there next to the fence”.
Jumping up, he said with confidence,
“I’ll take care of it”
and once again he did, walking out the door
and over to where he imagined
the group to be, his body language
and silent lips
letting them know they had to be on their way,
this time ushering them
out the gate with a wave goodbye.
Returning to the house, he asked his wife
how he did,
was she happy now.
To his surprise, she was not.
“What will the neighbors think”, she said,
“You out there talking to yourself and
waving your arms?”
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