Whispers...

It's been one of those weeks. One of those weeks where I wonder when it was I began turning into my Mother. When did middle age hit? I vaguely remember laughing at Mom when she'd walk into a room then stare blankly into space wondering why she was in there in the first place. We'd laugh and poke fun when she turned around and walked out muttering to herself about what she might have forgotten. Then there came the curse. Some Mothers curse their children with kids just as hard headed as they are. Not my Mother though, her curse was much worse. She promised that the day would come when we'd have to make more than one trip into a room to remember what we needed. She swore we'd have trouble remembering the simple things and only remember them when they were no longer of any importance. We just knew our perfect, all knowing teenaged selves could never face those problems; they were "old people" issues and we'd never be old. Then suddenly I find myself standing in the kitchen wondering why I'm there and it hits me; I'm becoming my Mother!

Some days this strikes me harder than others; none as hard as this week. Yes, this has gone past a day and bloomed into a full blown week of complete mind loss. I had a mind, I swear I did; I'm just not sure where I've put it right now. There was a time when I wouldn't forget anything; much to the unhappiness of my family who sometimes wished I'd forget and not say anything. Then slowly the little things would slip away. I'd get half way to work and realize I didn't have my license on me or my cell phone. Now it's gone into all out "uh oh" mode. Just this past week I have forgotten repeatedly all about my car. Yes, of all things I forgot about my own car. No, I didn't just walk out of the house and head up the road on foot; it hasn't gotten that bad yet. (Please if it ever does, put me in a home, I'll be too dangerous to myself to be left free to roam.) My car however, has been in the shop. It was shaking and shimming more than one of those women on "Dancing With The Stars" so, I took it in to see what needed to be done. Within a matter of a couple days the car was ready to be picked up. Not once, not twice, but three seperate times I have gotten into another vehicle with a friend to retrieve my car. So where is the car as I type this? Why, it's still in the shop. Where else would a perfectly good car be? I realize that as big as a car is, if I can forget that, what else might have I forgotten? My Dear Lord... where's my child?!? No, I'm just kidding, I do have a vague recollection of telling him goodnight and sending him to bed. Seriously though, it's a little frightening to know I'm forgetting so much already. By the time he graduates high school will I remember which kid on the stage is mine?

Now there was something else I was going to mention here, but well, I seem to have forgotten what it was.

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