What happens when the body is close to 90 and forgetfulness sets in? . . . forgetfulness even of the present?

The sweet, smiling face looked at her visitors. Who is this? You Hattie Belle's boy? Addie's? Davy-boy, you say? Well, never mind.

She turned to her sister, Ernie who shares the room in the nursing home with her.

"Whee is that S.W.? I do wish he'd come and see me!"

Ernie: "You'll see him soon, Cuba. He's been gone 30 years now, but you'll be a'seein him soon."

We looked at the picture by her bed of the two of them, both young. S.W. strong and vital. Cue, sweet and fresh, wearing the same beautiful smile that the wrinkles have only intensified.

"Ernie, would you look at this?" she exclaimed with a soft Georgia accent. She held the picture as if it were a long lost treasure.

"Oh Cuba! I've seen that dang thing a hundred times before, and besides, like I said, he's da-id!" This with a gruff annoyance in her voice at Cue's forgetfulness which always reminded her of her own.

Cue's face, so unlike many of the others, was almost angelic in its sweetness.

"Ya'll be careful, and come see me again," she smiled as her visitors turned and left.