As far as care homes went, they could have chosen worse. At least their grandmother had a room of her own. A large one. Memories hijacked Jay’s brain as many familiar items he remembered from his childhood simultaneously filled him with warmth, and sadness. Increasing confusion and forgetfulness had led his grandmother to this, but at least the decision had been mostly hers during her more lucid periods. She claimed to want her own space. Didn’t appear to hate it.
Feet up on a recliner chair, box of chocolates, large television to herself, magazines everywhere, she looked at home.
“It’s omnifariousness, nincompoop!” She tossed a chocolate wrapper at the television. “Comprising or relating to all sorts or varieties, is omnifariousness, you idiot.”
His grandmother didn’t remember her own
