Moments and Memories

"We do not remember days, we remember moments." ---Cesare Pavese 

BRENDA KELLEY KIM 

He's right. Back in November, I hit a milestone birthday; I turned sixty years old. I might have already written about this, but I don't remember. I've discovered recently that my memory stinks, and while it might be age-related, it doesn't matter why I forget things almost instantly. There are dozens of reasons why mild memory loss shows up, so why does it always seem to come back to age? 

We assume that once we hit a certain age, we could become doddering fools who forget to turn the stove off and burn the house down. I used to write science articles about neurology and brain science, but when it comes to my own mind, I honestly have no idea. Memory issues come and go, but I'm finding that it doesn't matter what the specifics are; what matters is what we do to cope with it. When I started noticing these issues, I did think it might be age because the other reasons, like a brain tumor or early onset dementia, were too scary to think about. 

I spent a lot of time being bummed out that aging was impacting my life this way, but now I realize that getting older is something my parents never got to do. I'm ten years older now than they were when I lost them, so I don't mind the age anymore. Aging is something that millions of people experience. One person might be all kale and kombucha to ward off the downside, and another might think, "Who cares?" 

I don't know where I fall on this spectrum. Yes, turning sixty was a big deal; growing up, I felt like someone who was sixty was definitely old. Now that I'm there? I don't feel old, but my knees have aged in dog years, my face has the footprints of a thousand crows, and I slap color on my head to ward off the grey. The memory issues, though? Nothing makes you feel older than when a kid says, "Ya, Mom, you told me that already." 

I may occasionally forget an appointment or a conference call, but there are apps to help me with that. Sometimes I even go old school (haha, see what I did there?) and put up brightly colored sticky notes on my mirror to remind me of the essential tasks on my calendar app. The days might get confusing, but I remember so many important moments. 

I remember the day the proof copy of my book came in the mail, and I nearly ran over a neighbor on her walk because I was waving it around. 

I remember road trips with my kids, where we listened to audiobooks and ate bad rest-stop food. 

I remember laughing like fools on a staycation weekend in Boston with my girlfriends, but I've forgotten what was so funny. 

I remember sitting in the kitchen at a friend's home, learning how to knit, and feeling like a rockstar when I finished a scarf with more than a few dropped stitches. 

I remember helping someone with a Christmas project, wrapping hundreds of gifts, and sticking name tags on them, hoping I got the correct tags on the right gifts. 

I remember getting to a track meet just in time to see my daughter run the last race of her high school career; two days later, schools were closed, sports were canceled, and the world seemed to shut down. 

For now, the sticky notes and apps will help me organize work and other tasks, but I refuse to simply accept that forgetting a few things means I'm old and decrepit. It just means I'm focusing more on moments and less on due dates and projects. A missed appointment can be rescheduled, but remembering the best bits and pieces of a life well-lived is precious.