It started with little things like misplacing the car keys and forgetting our phone number.
“You are growing old, my love,” I would joke.
“Who says so? I am as fit as a fiddle. Besides, if I am growing old, so are you Missy,” he would tease me and pull me closer to dance with him.
We’ve celebrated our birthdays together in school and we were partners-in-crime in college. And then, we bonded over Frank Sinatra’s soulful songs in our young adulthood. We fell head over heels in love and danced to Strangers in the Night. We married young and became life partners.
The sound of the cooker whistle broke my reverie.
“Have you bought groceries from the supermarket?” I asked him.
“Not yet. I am still dusting the sofa,” he answered.
Half-an-hour later, I peeped into the room to remind him. He was staring blankly outside the window.
I went from behind and tapped him on the shoulder. Startled, he muttered, “Yes, yes. I am going to the market right away.”
A few minutes later, I found him standing in front of the gate, lost. With a childlike innocence on his face, he hesitantly came back and asked, “Should I take the road on the right or the left?”
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