No one is watching me, taking stock of when my quirks hint at actual memory loss. I don't think it is imminent, but I am concerned that I don't have anyone who will know or maybe I worry I won't believe anyone when the warning signs rear their heads. I don't want to be my mother. As much as I love her, she quit and then life wouldn't grant her an exit door. She was done, her purpose in life was Dad, and kids and house and they were gone. We visited but we were exhausting with our petty transient worries, or we tried to hard to cheer her up. Dad was gone, the reason she got up in the morning, the central organizing point of her life was gone in the blink of an eye. Without him she could not keep the lid on Pandora's box. She kept opening the trunk of bad memories, taking them out and examining them over and over. He wasn't there to stop her. Regrets, anger, exhaustion won but still the sun rose in the morning and she had to face another day. Her last years are a warning of what happens when you train yourself to have no opinions or wants. Plywood screwed to the top of a $50 typing desk with power strips screwed to the side is fine for McGyver, but it is ok to want something else for yourself.
But I digress. Last week I took my car in for an oil change and inspection. When I came out and paid my bill in the entrance bay they said my keys were in the car, so I walked over to the closest "blonde" vehicle and opened the passenger door to put my bag in. I looked puzzled, where is my dog seat? The very nice techs said gently that wasn't my car, it was a GMC (blonde) my Escalade was one lane over. I laughed and said that is what happens when you buy your car by color. I am fairly certain that story is being told over and over in the service bay. I am not sure what to chalk that up to.
Many years ago I came home to visit after Mom had several rooms painted and the art (and that is a generous term) was still sitting on the floor. For me who moved frequently (the rumor was I moved so often so I would not have to clean the oven) you restored your house to order immediately. I was worried and Mom's answer did not reassure me. She said essentially it really didn't matter and she was tired. I am afraid. I put the liners in the hay racks on the porches in early May. I was waiting for the plumber to come and fix the outside faucet problems, and he did that last week. I still have not been motivated to fill the planters. They sit empty looking at me. Are they omens?
More next time on why I have a post it over my coffee machine that says "Don't be Aunt Jane".
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