It has been far too long since I visited Pompa. Weeks go by, and sometimes I don’t think about it. But then I feel guilty, or rather the guilt builds up to the point where my choice is either to be swallowed by my own self-loathing or go and visit him. Visiting him is so much easier. And I’m always pleased afterwards.
I’ve been to a fair few nursing homes, and I can’t say that I’ve liked any of them. Even the good ones. Necessary cages for people who either mentally or physically can no longer take care of themselves. For my grandfather, at least he’s in a fairly new one, with caring staff and friendly residents. But it’s still a cage. He knows it.
He will joke with Riley, when she’s at the gate or the fence, that there’s no point – there’s no way out. He likes going outside. At least it’s pretty there.
And the reason why I feel so guilty, is it seems like one of the very few things that cheers him up is this character. I really wish life didn’t take over and I could take her up to see him more regularly
And so, even today, when he seemed a little depressed, he brightened up immediately in her presence. Even though she wasn’t really giving him the time of day. He kept trying to play with her, but she read all of his overtures as attempts to steal her toys. So mostly she just hid things under her arm and yelled “No! No! No!”. He didn’t seem to mind too much.
Because to him, she’s sunshine.
My name is Zoey. 
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