“Do you know the way?” she asked?
“It’s the same way as every other time,” I replied trying not to get frustrated. I was asked this question every time we got to the crossroad.
“I’m never sure, I feel as though I should know but my mind is a fog and I’m unsure of which way to go.”
“Take my hand and trust me that I know the way,” I said taking her wrinkled old hand in mine.
“I’m glad you are here, I feel safe with you.”
“It’s all okay, just a few more steps and we’ll be home.”
“Home? We’re home? But what about the shopping, we were supposed to go to the shops. There’s things I need to buy, soap, wash-up, pegs.”
“They’re in the bag you’re carrying.”
“Oh! They are? You’re such a help. Where would I be without you?”