AGING
I Met Someone From Yellowknife
I so wish I could tell you more
I am quite sure that I once met and spoke to a young man from Yellowknife, Canada. My memory is certain of that, and certain that I found our conversation interesting.
If I knew then why this person was in our small Massachusetts town, I have forgotten. I cannot remember what he looked like, what we talked about, how old I was. I only remember where he was from and that he told me something else that interested me.
I have to say this annoys me far more than any other memory lapse I’ve experienced as I age.
Some of the little things my tired old brain does make me laugh. A few days ago, I was making the bed and had put the pillows aside on a chair. When I was finished with the sheets, I picked up the pillows, turned, and walked toward the kitchen. It was much more than absent-minded ambling; no, I wanted to go to the kitchen. I needed to take those pillows to the kitchen.
Halfway down the hallway, I stopped and laughed. Taking pillows to the kitchen? I turned back and put them on the bed, still chuckling a little.
Delivering pillows to the kitchen is funny. Forgetting the conversation with the man from Yellowknife is not.
