I’m happy to report that my mom, who currently lives two hours from me, is moving to my town next month. She’s in a senior living apartment now, but it’s become really hard for her to get around. So when a new assisted-living place went up only six miles from our house, I checked into it. The property company has an impressive record of resident-focused service that made me feel comfortable about letting them care for Mom.

When I first visited the nearly finished building, I admired the pale-yellow walls and reddish carpet used throughout the first floor. The decor had a bright, warm, homey effect.

I was even more pleased when the sales director led me onto the second floor. The upstairs walls are all painted light blue, with carpets in pretty blues and greens–Mom’s favorite colors. I like the two floors having different colors. You can tell at a glance which you’re on. Very helpful to seniors–one less thing to have to think about, right? With Mom’s permission I scored her a cute one-bedroom. It’s upstairs, overlooking the courtyard.

Last weekend the facility had an open house, complete with guided tours and yummy food prepared by their actual chefs. I sampled the goods in the sunny yellow dining area, then the tour started. A guide led us down the yellow hallway to a yellow meeting room for the first presentation.

Next we went to the second floor and along the blue hall, which soon opened out into a wide blue living area where we heard another presentation. Then we were off to check out the wellness / physical therapy room–also blue, of course.

That’s when I saw the time and realized I’d have to hustle to my writers’ group meeting. I went to thank the guide and tell her I had to leave.

“Oh, I’ll walk you down–we have a little gift for your mom.” She escorted me back down into Yellow Wall World. We chatted on the way, me focusing on her rather than my surroundings. Soon we stopped in front of two cheerful women standing by a small round table. One of them handed me a gift bag from the table.

“Thanks,” I said. Then I looked around and realized I was in a large, completely unfamiliar room, furnished with several round tables like the gift-bag one. Why hadn’t I seen this area on my first visit? What was it for? To compound my mental disconnect, the walls and carpet were Second-Floor Blue. But… we’d come down the elevator. I knew perfectly well we’d walked past the Yellow dining area. On the first floor. Had we gone back upstairs? When? How?

Covering my disorientation in my usual smooth style, I blurted out, “Wait–where am I?”

All three women burst out laughing.

“This is the memory-care wing,” the gift lady explained, then leaned toward me confidentially. “We get that question a lot.”

I swear they’d been waiting all morning for an opening like that.

Your turn: Have you ever become disoriented for a perfectly valid, non-losing-your-marbles reason? In front of strangers? Please tell me I’m not the only one! There’s room for you in the “Leave A Reply” section below.

Thanks for reading,
Jan