Sometimes I wonder at myself. I safely put away things in places thinking I will easily remember where they were reposing. Hard luck! I can’t find the **** things. Alas! The place was only known to me. Nobody else can help me.
Nola (daughter) along with family, stayed for a few days at our latest abode in the land of Texas. She came bearing gifts for Son, and I. Fearing the exuberance of her two youngest I took my glass plate away to the safety of my closet. It got ensconced there, but the wooden stand was another matter. I forgot about its’ whereabouts. Giving up I looked into the lowest drawer of my dressing table, and found another one for the plate. It was a smaller size, and my apprehension that it wouldn’t support the plate came true.
At the same time while I was looking for the misplaced stand I was also trying to find my brushes, and paints. Didn’t find them either. And then my eyes landed on the elusive stand. It was lying on top of some photo frames. Glad to find the missing absconder, I stationed the plate on it.
My sister, who tries to find solutions to my forgetfulness told me to write down in a notebook whenever I stash my things for safety purposes. Good! Now where in God’s name I put away my notebook?
How do I go from here to there
How to remember the various odd things
How to hold on, and never forget
Getting out of hands, my memory needs fixing
It was last week, before the unfortunate mishap with my left foot. Son needed to have his wedding photos developed for his wife’s visa. I went along with him. I shouldn’t have gone. It’s never a good idea to go to shops. One buys unnecessary things. I had time to browse while I waited for Son, and that was my undoing. It was no excuse for my buying spree.
Coming out I was following Son. I’m a slow person, taking in the view, while Son takes gigantic strides. He gets ahead so quickly that I had difficulty in following him. A couple of people came between him, and me, while I was focusing on them, and how to pass through, I lost him. I couldn’t see where he went.
I kept looking for him, forgetting where the car was parked. We had come in his vehicle, as he wanted to fill his car’s tank. His irritated call soon came, asking where was I? Anyway we found each other.
My sister has found the solution to my forgetfulness, and that is : the moment I get down from the car, I should take a photo of the location.
I have been driving in Houston since October, but the roads still seem a maze to me. The worse thing is I keep forgetting the names, or keep mixing them to the annoyance of Son. He relishes it when he can count it as one mistake. Ten mistakes– and I have to make him a dish of baked chicken drumsticks.
We had to buy some gifts. While returning home, Son asked me the usual question, “What is this road called?” Answer was “Ah aa a!” He was gleeful. Nola (daughter) is on a very short visit to us (she saw her brother after a gap of two years). She advised me, “Stall! Don’t answer immediately. Wait till you can see the name, then answer”.
Next time, I will try her advice.
She reminded him, “Mama is almost nineteen years older to you. Wait till you get there, then I am going to ask you”.
Son forgets names of friends mostly, but I am too nice a person to rub it in.
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