Tuesday, February 17, 2015

On the other hand...

I realize I don’t want any record of my days. I have the kind of brain that erases everything that passes, almost immediately, like that dustpan-and-brush dog in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland sweeping up the path as he progresses along it. I never know what I was doing on what date, or how old I was when this or that happened—and I like it that way. I feel when I am very old and my brain “goes” it won’t feel so very different from the life I live now, in this miasma of non-memory, which, though it infuriates my nearest and dearest, must suit me somehow, as I can’t seem, even by acts of will, to change it.

1 comment:

  1. Interesting. Sense of the past is necessary for me for comfort as I age, revisiting memories provides a context for present day things for me, and telling stories about them provides connections with spouse, kids and greater family and friends and people.