When my mom's memory started going seriously downhill, I went down to Charleston and took a bunch of pictures of what I hoped would be recognizable landmarks for her. One of the pictures was of me in front of her mom's house. (It was taken by the woman I was going with at the time.) I had comparatively long hair for me and was wearing a long dark coat. When I got back with the pictures, I went through with them with my mom and picked out the ones of places that she remembered best, including her mom's house. I got them professionally blown up and framed and hung them up. When my mom saw the picture of me in front of her mother's house, she asked who the nun was. I wasn't too busted up about it; I thought it was funny then and find it funny now.
For some strange reason, since I moved to this apartment I've just taken it as it was when I arrived, hanging pictures on the nails that were there but not adding any even though there are many holes from past nails, meaning there would be no problem with making more. I'm going to get some nails (already have the hammer) and those Charleston pictures and add a little more color and history to the place. And of course I'll know to call the assisted living facility when I start wondering who the nun is.
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