One day, while Mama lived with us due to dementia, I looked out the window and, to my surprise, saw her outside visiting with the mailman. I was surprised for two reasons : Firstly, the door was always kept locked, and secondly, Mama’s visiting skills and her ability to string together coherent words were diminishing at a rather alarming rate.
I had been under the (apparently mistaken) assumption that she no longer knew how to unlock a door. It turned out that if you asked her to unlock the door, she couldn’t comply with your request or tell you how. But her fingers had enough muscle memory enabling her to do what she had been doing all her life: see a door, unlock it, and go out.









