WHAT WAS I GOING TO DO?

      







​ I’ve come to that certain age where I have to go through an alphabet of names before I can think of the correct one.
You know what I mean; when I want to mention dear daughter mine, I’m like this,
“Well, you know Donn-er – Kati- er- Philip –pause… Alison said!”

Or when I start to go upstairs to get something only having to come back down again as I have forgotten what it was I was going for. Or standing in the supermarket knowing exactly what it is I’m going to buy, only to walk up and down the aisles a few times until my short -term memory kicks in.

Oh, and not forgetting that safe place; you all know which one I mean, where you put things that you might need at a later date, somewhere safe, so you don’t lose it- well I’ve forgotten the number of times I don’t actually remember where this is any more.

Mind you, I think the funniest thing is that my lovely husband always said that he only married me for my memory!

Things aren’t looking too bright for me at the moment! LOL


                                                         Memory    
                                 
                                                         It starts
                                                        With a slither
                                                        Of muted colours.
                                                        The top edge
                                                        Of a faded photograph.
                                                        It hovers
                                                        At the peripheral
                                                        Of consciousness.
                                                        Its stillness
                                                        Is surprising.
                                                        Its shyness
                                                        Perplexing.
                                                       It’s a tantalising thread
                                                       Drifting;
                                                       Haunting in the haze.
                                                       It’s only
                                                       A short breath away…
                                  
                           I’ll Never Forget What I Have Already Forgotten.
 
As they wheeled me down the long, sterile corridor of the Home, I whispered that I would never forget:
                             The warm sunshine shining on my face.
                             The sweet smell of the flowers in my garden.
                             The feel of soft raindrops gentle on my skin.
                             The iridescent colours of a rainbow.
                             The touch of my husband’s loving embrace.
                             The laughter of my daughter’s sense of fun.
                             The golden autumn leaves in all their glory.
                              The ice-cold snow that glitters with winter promise.
                              I’ll never forget…
The voice of the nurse interrupted my thoughts. “What was that you were saying?” she asked.
I stared at the nurse perplexed and whispered, “I’ve forgotten!”
 
 
 
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