The absolute best part of this Christmas has definitely been that my Grandparents, who I rarely get to see anymore, are down from Maryland. My Grandpa is deep in the throes of Alzheimer’s, and my Grandma, on the other hand, somehow gets sharper every day, and less filtered, like she will CALL. IT. OUT. Alzheimers of the genetic variety runs deep in my grandpa’s family, tho it affects everyone differently. We’re lucky that at this point, he is sort of joyfully forgetful, has a less dark version of the disease. He kind of has no idea what’s happening or where he is, but is basically always at peace, unless of course there’s no ice cream or a woman is driving him. He knows who my Grandma is, ‘The Wife,’ but that’s basically it when it comes to people. And so over the last few days, I’ve managed to become ‘the nice girl who works here,’ the nice girl who shows him where to sit to get the best view of the lake, where the bathroom is, who refreshes his coffee. I like to think he thinks he’s at some extremely hospitable waterside bed and breakfast, where the proprietors treat you like family, fuss over you, find your shoes, where there’s a Nice Girl who Works there, who seems familiar in a way that’s strange but comforting, but doesn’t everyone, at a certain point?