Of New Friends and Fruit
Her lady friend has now provided a name – Elizabeth – and the two have organized some activities that involve getting out of bed.
“How about a last name?” I ask.
“Too hard to pronounce.”
After applesauce and in the middle of a bowl of vanilla ice cream, Bea suddenly croaks, “Can I have a vegetable?”
“And a Protestant?”
“Did I say Protestant? No, not Protestant. I mean those men who came with vegetables yesterday. They were here with Elizabeth and Marie’s mother’s baby. What was that baby called? I forget.”
“Shall I name some vegetables?
“No. I shall think of it myself. That was twenty years ago. I would like a little fruit.”
“Yes, apples and pomegranate.”
Keeping up with Bea is like racing backwards and forwards through time, a stressful enterprise, even for the most sure-footed chronicler!