I seldom write about my amazing husband. Ageing has its challenges, and for him, it’s Parkinson’s Disease, a cruel, incurable disease that he’s been living with for fourteen years. His mobility is greatly compromised. A former marathon runner, he now struggles to walk a mile with his rollator.
It’s easy to spot Peter when he is out walking – stooped, walking tiny quick steps, behind his fire-engine-red rollator (named Clem because it’s too hard to say rollator).
The other day I was walking toward Harvard Square with a friend when we spotted Peter walking toward us behind Clem, clutching a bouquet of daisies. It seems that he caught me in a moment of feeling unappreciated (caregiving can be hard) and he knows how daisies cheer me up. My friend was amazed. It was a Hallmark moment.
A week later, I woke to the unmistakable cinnamon smell of a coffee cake in the oven. (Gluten-free of course.) Yes, the kitchen was a mess from his unsteady hands, but the cake was delicious.
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