This day like every Sunday it is looking in on Mom day. I find her sitting in the dining room eating lunch. Crumbs and spills on her blouse. Nothing needs to be said about it. I move her wheel chair closer to the table. She says she is happy to see me. I mention the church bulletin the eucharistic minister leaves her when on the table next to her. I talk about the readings from today’s mass. Still she remembers them. The staff takes my lunch order so she and I can have a meal together. I ask her if Swiss steak is covered in marinara sauce. She doesn’t remember. So I tell her I will order the Swiss steak and try for the first time ever beets. Pickled she asks ? No buttered is my response. She remembers. When dessert is offered she is asked, chocolate pie Grace. Mother enforces her love of chocolate by proclaiming out loud, ” There’s no bad chocolate “. Everyone laughs because she’s Gracie and opinionated. Everytime when I depart I remember her before dementia laid claim on her mind. I visit in an attempt to steal it back.