By Erik Dolson
We talk about the Parkinson’s. We even laugh about it, when words come out wrong and there’s no consequence.
We were holding hands and walking back to the boat where we live when Irish wanted to say “Do you remember when …” Instead, it came out “Do you remember me?”
“I try to remember you,” I said. “Sometimes.” Whatever she wanted to ask evaporated by the time we stopped laughing. Continue reading “It’s just a story”