This morning Bo awoke with yesterday’s tree problem on his mind.
When I said, “Good morning,” he responded, “We’ve got a problem to solve out there” (pointing toward the side of the house where the blue spruce had stood.) I realized right away what he meant.
“We took care of it yesterday, honey. It’s cut up and out at the curb.”
“It is? When did that happen?” I saw his frustration.
He went to look out the window. “What about the stump? We have to do that.” He was covering his error.
“It will be taken care of by Doug, the handyman.”
“It will? When was that decided?”
“I set it up with him yesterday.”
“I don’t remember meeting him .”
At this point, he stopped, shut his eyes, and put his hands on either side of his head. Then he said, “I don’t remember that. I’m really in a bad state.”
My feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, and as always, I questioned my own actions. Could I have said or done something the previous day which might have helped him remember? Should he have been beside me when I contracted with Doug to remove the stump? Should he have been the one to pay Doug for yesterday’s work? Do I assume too much?
This second guessing never stops.
Three hours later, the sun was shining and Bo suggested we go out for a quick lunch. Afterwards, while I went grocery shopping, he drove up to the golf course to take a very long walk and return with his pockets filled with used golf balls.
There are so many variations in each day.