Middle Aged Memory
I remember exactly what I need until the moment I leave the room in search of it. It’s as if a magic breeze flows through the house, sweeping my mind clean of its every intention the moment I cross a sill. Gone. Empty. Forgotten. I stand there, bemused, searching for the thought I had possessed a scant moment before. Where was I going? What was I looking for?
If I fight it, if I get angry or frustrated, if I grieve my aging acuity, all is lost.
But if I stand receptive, in silence, lo and behold. The currents swirl, the breeze comes around again. Gentle as a settling leaf, it drops my thought back into my head, and twists away chuckling.
Joker.
What! Your thought comes back? You mean, without even having to go back to the room where it was conceived? Wow! Now there's an awesome middle-aged memory!
Hahaha! I've heard "proper names & then nouns" go first. Where I work, we just substitute the word "thing" for whatever we've forgotten. It gets pretty comical!
Seriously, though, I got some great advice from a wise man (yes!) who said, "You know you know it. Just ask!" What?? Well, one day Dave & I were headed out and I was upstairs thinking, "when I go down, I need to get the house key out of the drawer" (don't ask). Shortly thereafter, I go downstairs and into the kitchen (well past said drawer) and think "now *what* was I going to do?" I remembered my wise friend and stood there in the kitchen, back to the counter and said to meself "I know you can tell me what I'm trying to remember. I've been told to 'just ask,' so, please? And then it came, "the key." How do you like that? Try it sometime!
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