жил да был...

Looking West from Casa Juanita at Hill's Corners

Once I lived a few doors down from a retirement home, and every morning around 10, I saw an old man who lived there walk around the block.  I thought he’d like company, so I asked  if I could join him.  He thought it was a great idea, and we walked regularly together for several months.  He was a retired ship builder from New England.

One morning when we met he was crying.  He was ashamed that he couldn't remember my name, and he wanted me to know how much he appreciated our friendship. I told him I was sure he knew my name, but just couldn't remember it.  I also suggested that the day may come when he couldn't remember me at all, and he would still be my friend.

He smiled broadly, his eyes twinkled, and he said:  “Thanks, Barry.”

We laughed.