“I need,” Willie texted me in early February, “lipstick. Can you take me to the store? Also, is my birthday the 17th or 18th? 

Listen up, guys. Is it hard when those texts come across?  

Sure.  

But we have to find the reason for such texts, the source of the confusion. 

Or we have to laugh. 

To do anything else is to capitulate.  

I mean, does Jaws win in the end, gobbling Amity Island? What about Pazuzu in The Exorcist? Does he hang around, possessing random tweens? How about the terrorist cell in my new favorite movie, London Has Fallen? Do they conqueror all? 

No. Jaws and Pazuzu win in neither the movies nor the books. And if someone has novelized London Has Fallen — for the love of all that’s holy, please send it to me. 

We will not let Willie’s dementia take over our lives. 

Just, you know, this column. 

Let’s tackle the birthday. 

Indy and Willie’s wedding anniversary is Jan. 18. Willie’s birthday is Feb. 17. 

Even I forget which is which. And I don’t even have dementia. 

So —

Wait. What were we talking about? 

See? That’s funny, right? Don’t you feel better? 

As a kid, I always figured Willie, dissatisfied with an odd-numbered birthday, rectified it with an even-numbered wedding anniversary. 

If I were her, I’d be more dissatisfied I was born in the back seat of a car. 

But I’m not sure how you course correct after such an entry into the world.  

So, yeah. Get married on an even-numbered day if your hangup is your odd-numbered birthday. 

When Willie texted me about her birthday, my reflexive recollection of that childhood interpretation assuaged any distress I felt over Willie asking that question. Maybe Willie was always just as confused as I was. 

That is what we’re telling ourselves, guys. Don’t dig too deeply and we can all go home to a world where Jaws and Pazuzu still lose and London Has Fallen is novelized. 

The lipstick was a different story. 

Willie rarely answers her cell and never answers her landline. If I want to talk to her, I have to go to the Temple of Doom. 

Which, now that we’re talking about it, has me thinking that might be Willie’s exact intent. 

These days, Willie spends her days in front of the Temple of Doom’s lobby fireplace, surrounded by a cadre of new friends. 

Don’t worry. Her friends from independent living still visit her. They’ve shifted the Pinochle league to the assisted living side of the building, just for Willie. 

Yes, that’s incredibly kind. 

I try to focus on that.  

Instead of, you know, their eternal burning hatred for me because I moved Willie to assisted living. 

Like I was the one who told her to walk home from the nail salon.  

Yep, that’s me. The old lady whisperer. Do you have a Willie of your own you’d like to get into assisted living but are lacking a stark reason for doing so? Call me! For a fee, I’ll take care of that situation for you! 

I’m picturing the Ghostbusters commercial in my head when I say that. You guys are Sigourney Weaver, scoffing in disbelief at how ridiculous the world has become. 

Willie was right by the fireplace with her assisted living friends when I went over to set up our shopping trip.  

I pulled Willie’s datebook from her walker. I pointed to a Sunday, a week and a half away. 

“I’m taking you to church that day,” I explained. “We can go to Macy’s when we’re done. Hit the Clinique counter.” 
 
Then I Googled that Macy’s, to make sure it still existed. Because I can’t even talk about the Center City Macy’s closing. 

What — what is going to happen to the Dickens Village?  

No. Stop. We’re not talking about it. Everything will be fine. 

Although — wouldn’t you guys give anything if the person behind the decision to close the Center City Macy’s was visited by three ghosts and his dead best friend? 

I wrote the Macy’s visit in Willie’s datebook.  

That datebook is less for Willie and more for us family and friends, a sort of ’80s slam book where we communicate our plans with Willie, so she doesn’t wind up with eight lunch dates on one day, zero on another. 

Two days later, Willie texted. 

“Are we going shopping today?” 

Listen. I never said the humor thing would be easy. 

But buying Willie’s lipstick was.  

Or so I thought. 

A few weeks after we bought the lipstick, I took Willie to Target. She had a few things she wanted to pick up. 

“What do you need?” I asked, navigating a cart around people standing in the middle of the aisle. 

Can we hope Pazuzu gets people like that? I mean, come on. There are, like, eight billion people in the world. You’re not the only one. Move over. Contemplate your exact perfect bleach wipe next to the shelf instead of from the center of the aisle. 

“I need lipstick,” Willie said.  

I reminded Willie we already bought lipstick. 

“Oh. Well, then, I lost it,” Willie said. 

The good news is, that Target trip was just getting started.