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.