Back to Normal?

As usual my dad rose this morning in his uniform: jeans, shirt, cardigan sweater and his big, black, suede shoes. Ready for another day he joined us in the kitchen. After our typical exchange of "How'd you sleep?" followed by his usual bowl of raisin bran, the rest of us scattered to attack the responsibilities of our day.

Around noon I noted that I had not seen him for quite a while. There had been no interruptions asking me "Is there anything I can do to help?" No, "How's your day going?" No tea breaks. Typically this would mean he has slipped on his black base ball cap, giant clip on shades and is outside pounding the pavement around his little "track," our circular driveway. But when I checked, there was no Pop; just an empty yard with the trees and shrubbery swaying slowly in the warm, late, spring breeze.

The thought crossed my mind that perhaps he had gone for a ride with one of my men. But they usually tell me if he is going along. Besides, Bret was out on business and I knew he would not take Grandpa with him under those circumstances. And my husband was here at home in his office. When those two, more typical options turned up no results, I began searching the house.

It is not unusual for Pop to take a short mid-day nap in one of the overstuffed chairs. Somehow he is able to sleep in a full upright position with his head tucked, resting against his upper chest. How he does this I will never know as I need to be in full recline to get my zzzz's. But I did not find him in any of his favorite chairs.

Looking toward his bedroom I noted that his door, which usually stands open in the daytime, was closed. Approaching the door I quietly gave a little knock and then entered.

There, curled up in a ball, looking somewhat like a cat taking it's late morning nap, was my dad. Even though it is a bit unusual for him to snuggle down in his bed for his naps, it was not so much his location which surprised me as the way he was dress. He had fully undressed removing his shirt, jeans, socks and shoes and had dawned his blue, stripped jammies. He was in full night garb. With his white hair sprawled across the pillow I lightly tapped him on his shoulder. Thinking that he may not be feeling well or he had not slept well the night before I asked, "Are you feeling OK? Do you feel sick?" If he had not slept well the night before he would not know. There would be no recollection. Answering my question with a rather curt, "I'm sleeping!" I tucked my tail between my legs and slinked out of his room to let him "sleep it off" whatever "it" was.

20 minutes later, I happened to see out of the corner of my eye movement through the living room window. Garbed again in his day wear, black cap and giant clip on shades I saw Pop making his rounds on his "track." I guess everything is back to normal, whatever that is anymore around here.