An elderly couple flagged me down today when I was out with my baby in the stroller.

“I think the children left,” the woman told me, agitated. “I tried to follow them but I couldn’t.” She indicated her cane. “A boy and a girl, I think.”

“Where should they be?” I asked.

She gestured across the street to the courtyard behind a row of houses. I offered to go look.

The man nodded vigorously.

In the minute it took me to assert that there were no children in the courtyard, another woman emerged from the house behind the couple. I surmised correctly that she was trying to coax the elderly woman, dressed like her husband in just a t-shirt, back inside.

“I didn’t see the children,” I told her. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“See?” said the other woman. “Everything is fine. Now let’s go back inside.”

But the elderly woman wasn’t done yet. “And another thing. Your little girl was walking before,” she said.

“No,” I assured her, “she was right here in the stroller. There’s a little girl on a bicycle over there,” I added, indicating, “but my baby was right here.”

“Are you sure?” the woman pressed.

“Yes,” I said firmly, glancing at the man. He continued to nod, eyes large and locked on mine.

“And the children?”

“I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Yes,” added the other woman. “They’re fine. Now let’s go back inside. There, that’s right.”

The elderly woman turned away, satisfied.

“Thank you,” the man said. “My wife has dementia. Terrible.” His voice broke.

“I understand,” I said. “It’s a terrible disease.”

He nodded, turned to follow his wife inside, leading with his cane.

My eyes were damp as I continued down the street, baby in the stroller where she belonged.