Mom's Home

A few weeks ago, my mom had been in the hospital for several days, so I flew to Surprise, Arizona, to stay with my 95-year-old dad.

My parents live in a wonderful retirement community. Their apartment is small—one bedroom, one-and-a-half baths, a cozy little patio, and just enough room for my dad's books and all of my mom's holiday decorations. It's a constant negotiation. I slept on the sofa bed in the living room.

Before going to bed that night, I turned off the lights around 11:30. I never even checked to see if the front door was locked. In their community, neighbors stop by, doors are often open during the day, and it simply felt...safe.

The next morning, I was sitting on their little patio enjoying a cup of coffee before Dad woke up and our day began.

Suddenly I heard him call from inside the apartment.

"Kris... Mom's home."

I froze.

Home?

How was that possible?

She couldn't drive. She didn't even have the car. Why would the hospital release her in the middle of the night without calling us?

In about twenty seconds, my brain imagined every possible scenario.

I hurried inside.

The bedroom was dark. The blinds were closed. I could only see the outline of someone lying on my mom's side of the bed.

And from the doorway...

She looked like Mom.

I quietly stepped into the room and flipped on the light.

The woman sat up, smiled at me...

...and I immediately realized it wasn't my mom.

Thank goodness.

I have never been so happy to see a complete stranger.

Because I honestly could not comprehend how - or why - the hospital would have sent my mom home alone in the middle of the night.

But then a whole new question replaced the first one.

Who in the world is this?

I looked at my dad.

He looked at me.

"Oh," he said matter-of-factly. "That's Cheryl. She lives down the hall."

Wait...

What?

Cheryl?

Apparently, sometime after I went to bed, Cheryl had wandered through the unlocked front door, walked across the living room, into my parents' bedroom, and ended up asleep on my mom's side of the bed.

And somehow...

I slept through the entire thing.

Apparently, I can sleep through just about anything.

That's when Dad told me what had happened during the night.

At some point, he'd gotten up to use the bathroom.

Now remember...he's 95. He's been married to my mom for over 60 years. Waking up with someone sleeping next to him wasn't unusual. It never occurred to him that it wasn't my mom.

As he got out of bed, Cheryl opened her eyes, looked at him and said,

"Your hair looks funny."

Dad shrugged.

"Your mother says that to me all the time before I comb my hair."

So he went to the bathroom...

Climbed back into bed...

Next to a complete stranger...

And went back to sleep.

I stood there staring at Cheryl.

She just smiled.

"Hi, Cheryl," I said as gently as I could. "I think you might be in the wrong apartment."

She smiled again.

I looked at my dad.

"Dad...where does she live?"

He didn't know her apartment number.

"The one with the plant."

Of course.

I looked down the hallway.

Sure enough, about four doors away sat the only apartment with a plant outside.

I finally convinced Cheryl it was time to go home.

As we walked down the hallway, she stopped at the first apartment.

"That's Nora's apartment," I said. "Yours is the one with the plant."

As we continued walking, I noticed she kept pulling up her pants with her left hand.

I remember thinking...

That's odd.

I had no idea why they didn't fit.

Not yet.

I settled back onto the patio to finish my coffee while Dad got dressed.

A few minutes later he called from the bedroom.

"Kris...come in here."

Apparently Cheryl had taken a shower.

Used their bathroom.

Changed her clothes.

She had even taken the giant picture off the bathroom wall and carefully leaned it against the vanity.

To this day, I have absolutely no idea why.

And somehow...

I slept through all of it.

Then Dad mentioned the pants.

Those pants Cheryl had been holding up the whole way home?

They were my mom's favorite capris.

Suddenly everything made sense.

Well...

As much as any of this could possibly make sense.

I immediately texted my sister.

Are you up?

Yes.

Call me if you are. Funny story.

Then I sent her a picture of the bathroom.

Within minutes we were both crying laughing.

After breakfast, Dad and I stopped by the management office to let them know what had happened. They contacted Cheryl's emergency contact, who stopped by later that morning to thank us for helping her get safely back to her apartment.

When we got back upstairs, I started a load of laundry.

Cheryl's clothes.

The bath towels.

The bath mat.

Later that afternoon I walked four doors down carrying a neatly folded stack of freshly washed clothes to exchange them for my mom's capri pants.

Cheryl didn't remember any of what had happened.

Her friend was sitting with her when I arrived.

Cheryl smiled and said,

"I slept with a nice man and a young woman."

I smiled.

"Well...not exactly."

**Cheryl's name has been changed to protect the privacy of a wonderful neighbor. Nora, however, is exactly who you think she is.**