CHAPTER TWENTY-THREEMother was seated at Lindsey’s computer giving him a demonstration of the skills she had picked up at Miss Reilly’s class. Lindsey watched her insert a disk, boot up the system and access a file. He still hadn’t got over it. A year ago, Mother had been lost in time, wandering mental corridors lined with doors that opened onto 1953, 1948, 1936, 1895. That opened to San Francisco, Korea, Hollywood, London. That opened to the North Pole or to Fairyland.
She didn’t know it, but she had been within one anguished decision on the part of her son, of a nursing home or a mental hospital from which she would probably never have emerged.
And now she was shopping and cooking meals, attending classes, running a computer, and preparing to apply for a job. Lindsey put his arm around
