Forgetfulness

Forgetfulness is never on time. She has either missed the appointment altogether, gotten confused about who she was meeting or where she was meeting them, or she has lost her keys. She is forever making lists, but when she reads them, she can’t remember what each notation means. The list says pick up flowers, but she can’t remember whom they were for or why she was buying them.

Forgetfulness is full of apologies, but it is hard to forgive her because you know she will make the same mistake the next time. On the other hand, it’s hard not to pity her because she tries so hard and seems so sincere. She makes you believe that she can’t help herself.

Forgetfulness has enrolled in every memory class known to man. She does Sudoku puzzles and the New York Times crossword. She takes Brain Gym classes and does memory enhancement exercises. But nothing seems to help. If nothing else, forgetfulness is consistent in her inability to remember.

Forgetfulness was invisible and bullied as a child. She stayed underground and let her older sister, Efficiency take center stage. Forgetfulness likes to tell people that she found herself in middle age. She says she likes midlife best because she wrecks great havoc there, but she is rapidly discovering the vast possibilities of old age. She is great friends with Menopause who lives next door. The two of them get together with Chemotherapy and Aging, the new couple who moved in at the end of the block. They make a great foursome for bridge. They have so much fun laughing together than no one really notices that they rarely finish the game.

Forgetfulness is a good friend to have when bad things happen to you. If you bring her along, you can survive the worst and live to tell the tale. She is the guardian ad litem of abused children everywhere. She has made a blood pact with Survival and they frequently go hiking together.

Lately, people have started to whisper behind forgetfulness’s back. Her children wonder if it’s merely aging or some form of dementia. They’ve talked about taking away her car keys and wonder if it’s really okay for her to live alone. But forgetfulness muddles along; for all her mistakes and missteps, she seems somehow to manage.

2 thoughts on “Forgetfulness”

  1. Forgetfullness who?
    I must tell you I am a very close friend of forgetfullness. I think we are on the same track.

  2. chemo & forgetfullness
    I completely relate with this entry…the toddler years of my son’s life are a mystery to me; remembered only through my mother’s memory. “Don’t you remember when he made his first sand castle? It was such a perfect day for us!” No, Mom, I don’t remember, and I feel like the biggest asshole for it. I don’t remember birthdays, second words, nursing for the last time. I remember his first word, Granpa; the next thing I remember is him climbing into bed with me telling me “Mama, you will be fine soon.” Years seemed to have passed; in my memory, the years stretch long and far. Thank you for that writing. It reminds me.

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