A Case of Mistaken Identity

It was a preview from my future, and it flashed across the screen so fast that it would take several long seconds before I was able to process it. When I finally realized it was a case of mistaken identity, I was not happy, not happy at all.

It had been an emotionally and physically challenging week, but at the same time, invigorating and rewarding. With very short notice from Tom's mother's doctor that she could no longer live alone or drive, her two sons (Bill and Tom) and daughters-in-law (Betty and I) had only five days to find and move her into an apartment in an assisted living center that she would like.

Once we were able to navigate our way past the smoke and mirrors that the competing assisted living centers cunningly laid in our path, we found an apartment perfect (or so we thought) for Mom and began the back-aching, leg-cramping, mate-quibbling process of moving a four-bedroom home into a very small flat. Three days later, our goal was finally accomplished, but my body was screaming for a break. What better place to relax than the front porch where the residents go to get a breath of fresh air.

Most of the chairs were taken so I found a unoccupied bench, laid down, and curled into a fetal position. After a fifteen minute nap, I'd be good as new, I told myself, so off to sleep I went, or so I hoped.

He was ten feet away but I could feel his stare. I opened my eyes and standing in front of me was a nice-looking man about forty-five. He was pushing his mother in a wheelchair, but stopped when he saw me. He smiled. His mother smiled. I smiled. "That's nice," was my first thought, followed by "Okay, you can move on now." But they didn't move on. He looked at me like I look at the puppies at the pet store who need a home. I think they're precious little things and see that they need rescued, but I already have a dog.

"Well, hello there. Having a little afternoon siesta, are we?" His voice was loud and irritating, and his manner sweetly condescending. It was as if he were talking to a poor little dog who needed rescued, but yet he had no intentions of taking her home. He just wanted to gawk, taunt, and walk away. So I bit him.