I cannot stop thinking about one of the women I saw yesterday in the nursing home.

You see, she was holding a baby doll, a rather realistic one. I watched her nearly the whole time I was there, glancing again and again at her care of the doll. She soothed it, stroking the arms and legs. She patted its back. She played with the tiny fingers and toes. She held it...with such love.

She was a mother.

She could play the game of bean bag toss. She couldn't answer any of the questions the therapist asked as to the day of the week or time of the year or the weather. She could communicate at all. But she could nurture a baby.

Alzheimer's had robbed her of all else...but not of being a mother.