Peter and I have been living with Parkinson’s Disease for a dozen years.  I say “Peter and I” because although he is the patient, I am the caregiver.  As the disease progresses, it’s harder for both of us.

Because the pandemic has restricted our social life, it’s a challenge to find new things that will get us out of our apartment. On Wednesday, I suggested we drive somewhere and walk in a different location for a change of scenery.  The day before, I had walked to our former neighborhood with a friend, and it was great fun to see what has changed in the three years since we left. I thought he would enjoy it. 

We parked and walked a part of our former regular “after dinner” neighborhood stroll.  I especially wanted to show Peter some changes on a nearby cul-de-sac. 

There was an attractive addition to one house that I wanted him to see, but all the houses are quite unusual including one that looked like it once belonged to Hansel and Gretel.

I didn’t mind going there twice in two days, especially because I caught a glimpse of one of those puffy skiing-type mittens perched on a fence post as we were leaving.  Obviously, some careless person dropped it and some nice person picked it up and put it in a visible place.  I don’t know who the nice person was, but the careless person was me.