He sat with his wife’s photo, waiting for a son who had already boarded without him

rotation began, I started visiting the local memory care unit. Most of the residents didn’t know who I was. But when I read aloud, their eyes softened.

When I brought Grandpa’s old radio and played his favorite jazz station, some of them tapped their fingers to the beat. One woman, Margie, thought I was her daughter every time I walked in. I never corrected continue reading …