“You’re the girl who brings me the ice cream,” Grandma said.
“Yes, but I’m Eleanor, too, your granddaughter. Don’t you remember me.” She asked, throwing her arms around the old lady.
Grandma smiled faintly.
“Remember? Sure I remember. You’re the girl who brings me ice cream.
Suddenly Eleanor realized that Grandma would never remember her. Grandma was living in a world all her own, in a world of shadowy memories and loneliness.
“Oh, how I love you, Grandma!” she said. Just then she saw a tear roll down Grandma’s cheek.
“Love,” she said. “I remember love.”
“You see, dear, that’s all she wants,” Mother said. “Love.”
“I’ll bring her ice cream every weekend then, and hug her even if she doesn’t remember me,” Eleanor said.
After all, that was more important—to remember love rather than someone’s name.