On March 14th at 5:00 in the morning, after a sleepless night filled with a pit of foreboding in my stomach and with a fog of war creating a haze around the planet, I walked into my mother's assistant living facility. The afternoon before the governor had issued an order forbidding family members from visiting their loved ones at nursing homes for thirty days. Two days earlier I asked mom if she wanted to come home with me. She said no, she had friends there, she loved her apartment, they had activities and, besides, her ALF had the best chocolate ice cream. But on that Saturday morning, with the possibility of the governor's order already being enforced, I went on a reconnaissance mission to retrieve my Holy Grail. I wore sweat pants, a raggedy tank top, and flip flops. I was dressed in all black. No camo makeup. I parked in the near empty lot, glad barriers hadn't been erected to keep out family members. The Florida humidity hit me as I jumped out of my car. The flip and flop of my ......

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