"Hey Sam, I finally found a reason to like tile flooring."
"Oh yah, what's that?"
"You can lay these old fashioned burning hot lights on the tile and 'no problem,' the tiles can take the heat," Simmy replied.
"That's not very eco-friendly," Sam said.
"You haven't been to my work since Saturday. It's very cold in there. You can put new materials down on the floor but if there's no insulation... I was on the ladder the other day and it was like sticking my head into a heat cloud. What they say is true! Heat rises!"
"When are we going to see my Mom again?" Sam asked.
"When you've got your armour on. You want to go visit her like a son who is mourning the 'lost years' of her abusive life. You want to be the son who tries to regain those years as she gives you a cookie. We can't do that anymore. We have to grow up and face the facts. When we were visiting her the other day I saw her pinball from childhood to adulthood to old age to some very scary, possibly real, memories."
"Who was she when she was smacking her fist into the palm of her hand and saying, 'Those young kids better watch it!'?" Sam asked.
"That's exactly what you have to discern," Simmy said. "That looked exactly like your Dad... so, was she mimicking his abusive behavior or was she saying something prophetic?"
"I don't know," Sam had a vacant and helpless look to his eyes.
"Sam! We have to be strong when we go there. We couldn't even get through the first verse of 'Stille Nacht.' When she got kind of violent, I thought singing would help but we couldn't even sing, we were so choked up with emotion. We can't sit there and cry. We'll do that at home."
"She hardly even spoke in English," Sam just couldn't get that bewildered look off his face.
"I was a little shocked at that too. When she spoke, almost totally, in German... I knew then that her dementia is quite advanced."
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