Mrs. Billingsley was puzzled about some things this evening. Where was she going to live anyway? She said she didn't have her house anymore. She was considering going to live in Aunt Louise's and Uncle Bert's house, because there needed to be room for all five of "us." She said these children were demanding that she do something. "Who are you talking about?" I asked, not really expecting to get an answer. She changed the subject, and said she had thought of living in the house where she lived before, but the people there didn't recognize her. "Which house?" "The one on 40th Street." She lived there as a teenager. "You can live here, OK?" I said. She was satisfied with that. "The Chaplins have moved to California," she informed me. Uh oh. She had been trying to sort out why she no longer heard from her grandparents, or her mother or her uncle. "Uncle Charlie is in California?" I asked her, curious to see where that went. She paused, for a moment, trying to make that fit her new narrative. For some reason that wasn't working. Why? Finally she told me that, yes, he too had gone to California. "OK. So you know what I think?" "What do you think?" "I think you're tired." "I am tired." "Would you like to go to bed now?" "Yes." So Mrs. Billingsley is sleeping it off.
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