Breakfast was cooked this morning and Rosa and me went on our walk after a short car ride. I was discussing with Rosa something I had been meaning to discuss for a long time and had been avoiding.
"If I get really ill mentally then I don't want you to be my caretaker," I told her. "Let the doctors and the hospitals handle it."
"But..." Rosa tried to protest.
"I don't want any arguments about this," I told her. "My ex-wife grew to resent me and hate me because of my illness."
"I don't want any buts. Trust me on this. My father will handle the details. He has power of attorney over me."
The end of our walk brought us by the shopping center. Clara was already roused from her sleeping spot behind the center.
"Hasn't this weather just been perfect?" she asked Rosa and me, cheerily.
"It has been gorgeous," we replied.
In her hand was a cup of coffee from the diner and it was shaky. I told Rosa she was not long for a drink.
"Seeing that reminds me so much of where I have come from," I told Rosa. "The morning shakes are the worst."
Something of Clara reminds Rosa of her past and she dislikes the feeling.
"I've been around people like that all my life," she said. "I don't wanna go back."
On that note, I drove us home with not much planned for today. I am going to work on my memoirs while Rosa reads and watches t.v. I worry about her getting bored, but she seems content. Rosa and me, we have similar "styles." Well, let me get busy writing.