This morning, my phone reminder popped up.
Memory Clinic – 10:30 am.
Mum was ready before I arrived.
She and Dad still live independently. They have their own routine, their own little world, and their own way of doing things. Most days they don't need me very much. Every now and then, I simply step into their day for a little while.
Today was one of those days.
At the clinic, the specialist smiled and began with a few familiar questions.
"What day is it today?"
Mum answered correctly.
"What season are we in?"
She looked down at the jacket she was wearing.
"Winter."
Another smile.
Then came a short memory exercise.
The doctor gave Mum three simple words and said he would ask for them again in a few minutes.
The conversation moved on.
There were a few maths questions.
One hundred minus seven.
Then minus seven again.
Mum answered every one without any trouble.
I found myself quietly celebrating each little answer.
Five minutes later, the doctor asked for the three words.
Mum paused for a moment.
Then she smiled.
"I can't remember."
Not one of them came back.
The appointment ended soon afterwards.
Neither of us talked much about the test as we walked back to the car.
Instead, I asked, "Would you like brunch?"
Her face lit up immediately.
We stopped at a small Cantonese café nearby.
One bowl of preserved egg and lean pork congee.
One plate of steamed rice noodle rolls.
Simple food.
Comfort food.
The kind that somehow makes an ordinary morning feel a little lighter.
Mum seemed happy.
"We should come here more often," she said.
"I'd like that," I replied.
On the way home, we passed the gift shop where I'd recently started working.
I pulled in for just a few minutes.
The shelves were lined with products I'd packed for customers almost every day—fish oil, calcium, CoQ10, probiotics and DHA.
Today, I picked up one bottle of DHA.
When we arrived home, Dad was already in the kitchen.
Lunch was almost ready.
"You've cooked?" I asked.
"Of course," he smiled. "You still have to eat."
Mum laughed.
"I'm still full."
The congee had done its job.
I took the bottle of DHA out of the shopping bag and placed it right in the middle of Mum and Dad's dining table.
Not inside the cupboard.
Not on the kitchen bench.
Right where they'd see it every morning and every evening.
Less chance of forgetting.
Dad picked it up and read the label.
"One a day?"
"One a day."
He nodded, placed it carefully back on the table, and went back to the kitchen.
I looked at the little bottle sitting quietly on the dining table....