Grand Island, Nebraska; a little bit of nowhere about a million miles from everywhere. Nebraska is a big, flat space, the equivalent of Saskatchewan in Canada. There's miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles, only here the crop is corn, not varied grains. Still, it is pretty in its own way, as all small towns can be, settled here along the Platte River.
I fear that the road trip may finally be affecting David's mind. This morning, for the fourth out of five tries, he left stuff behind in the fridge. The previous times it has merely been water bottles, although we intentionally left some cheese behind one day. This time, however, it was serious, serious enough to consider a return to St. Joseph. This time he forgot a small bread loaf from dinner last night, an extra which he begged off of the waitress. He really liked that bread, really.
Speaking of dinner, there was another incident for David at the restaurant. It was dark when we arrived, a late, long day on the road. After checking into our "cowboy" motel, we went off to the Whiskey Creek Grill, a small chain property here in the west and mid-west known for great steaks and BBQ. David was driving when we arrived and did what he has done innumerable times on this trip. He grabbed my wheelchair, set it up, and brought it around to me.
As I said, it was dark. It was dark enough that I didn't notice until he actually transferred me down into the chair that he had forgotten the seat cushion. I noticed because I was about 4 inches below normal height, and my rear was not softly cushioned at all! After I stopped laughing we decided to just leave it be; it was to be a "short" night for me. When we returned to the truck, he was able to boost me that extra few inches onto the lift seat, so it wasn't really a bad thing except for my feeling reduced in stature once again.
Maybe his is not losing his mind. Maybe it's not the road trip. Maybe it's not the many, many things he does every day as we roll across the countryside. Maybe, just maybe, he's just like the rest of us. He forgets things now and again. The last trip it was luggage left in the parking lot of a hotel, and a full change of clothes in a hotel room somewhere. This trip is a step up. So far, bread. And a cushion. Not bad, really.
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