One of my issues with getting older is my ability to remember. The best thing for me to do is make a list - if only I could find the list when I need it. It seems I go into a room, and then wonder why I'm there. Or I head out in the car, blissfully riding along, only to discover I am headed in the wrong direction of my intended destination. Or I try to remember that kid's name - you know, the one I gave birth to awhile ago.
Now the problem has to do with my travels. Yesterday the Red Cross worker asked me if I had been to Africa. I paused to think - have I been to Africa? For the record, the closest I've been to Africa is to watch "The Lion King." And yet I stopped to think about it, as I did with all the other countries she asked if I had visited in the last twelve months. As if I would forget that I had visited Africa - "Do anything last weekend?" "No. Oh wait. Oh yeah, I flew to Africa for the weekend."
It happened again today. I was out walking, and a car stopped beside me. Figuring someone needed directions, I stopped as the car window was rolling down. The lady driver asked me if I walked a lot in the neighborhood. She proceeded to tell me that she remembered me walking several years ago with a dark-haired lady who lived on Crestridge (my street) but I moved to Brentwood and must have moved back. Although I have lived in the same house since moving to Nashville, and have never even looked at houses in Brentwood, I was pretty sure she was mistaken. But I still stopped to think about it - did I ever live in Brentwood?
Anyhow, for the record, I have never been to Africa. Or lived in Brentwood. Now if I could just find that list ...
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