Monday has become our routine.
It's the day I take Mum to her physiotherapy appointment.
She enjoys it. Whether it's the treatment itself or simply having somewhere to go every Monday, I'm not entirely sure. Either way, she always comes out smiling.
Dad has his own routine too.
While Mum is inside, he never likes sitting around waiting. Instead, he picks up his walking stick and slowly makes his way to the Korean supermarket next door.
He rarely has a shopping list.
He just likes looking.
Every aisle deserves a visit.
Every special offer deserves a closer look.
I slow my pace to match his.
These days, that's become surprisingly easy.
About an hour later, Mum comes out looking pleased.
"That was really good," she says.
She says exactly the same thing almost every Monday.
We walk to the little café nearby.
Mum used to order a hot chocolate every time we came here. She has always loved sweet things.
These days, I gently encourage her to choose a coffee instead.
"Less sugar," I remind her.
She thinks about it for a second, smiles, and nods.
"Okay... coffee."
A few minutes later, while we're waiting for our drinks, she looks at me again.
"Should I have ordered a hot chocolate?"
Dad chuckles.
"You've already changed your mind?"
Mum laughs too.
"I suppose I have."
There isn't any embarrassment.
It's simply another little moment that slips quietly into the day.
When our coffees arrive, Dad begins giving us his supermarket report.
"The Korean pears are cheaper here than the Chinese supermarket."
"And the mushrooms looked fresher too."
He compares prices from different shops with surprising accuracy.
He might not remember where he left his reading glasses, but somehow he always remembers how much the pears cost last week.
Mum listens with interest.
I suspect she's heard the same conversation many times before.
It doesn't seem to matter.
Outside, people hurry past with shopping bags and takeaway cups.
Inside, Monday moves at its own pace.
After a while, Mum looks at me.
"When is my next physiotherapy appointment?"
"Next Monday," I tell her.
She smiles.
"That's good."
A few minutes later, she asks again.
"So... when am I coming back?"
I give her exactly the same answer.
She smiles with exactly the same relief.
For a long time, I thought getting older meant losing strength.
Lately, I've started noticing something else.
Sometimes it's simply moving a little slower.
Sometimes it's comparing supermarket prices over coffee.
Sometimes it's asking the same question twice.
On the drive home, Mum took another sip of her coffee.
"I think coffee is better," she said.
I smiled.
Maybe next Monday, we'll have the same conversation all over again.