Today when I arrived at the Birch Street Nursing Home, Mrs. Patterson was in the activity room, looking out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Shimshack. I didn't bother to remind Mrs. Patterson that Mrs. Shimshack has been dead for almost six years, and instead presented her with the brooch I made in art class this week. I had done my best to replicate the special one she had lost, though I had to do it from memory and I had only seen it once. I made it out of papier-mâché, covered it with gold glitter, and used red beads for the jewels. I glued a safety pin to the back so she could fasten the brooch to her sweater. When I handed it to her, Mrs. Patterson tossed it aside, saying, "That's not my brooch." But after I explained that I made it for her in art class, she picked it up and after a moment said, "Thank you."
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