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The Muffins in the Microwave and other Morning Mysteries

The Muffins in the Microwave and other Morning Mysteries

by | May 18, 2012 | Daily Life

This morning, I was up bright and early. At 6:15 I left the house to walk, my back exercises, Bible study, and breakfast already completed. Ten minutes later, my phone rang.

By the time I fished it out of my pocket and untangled the iPod ear buds wrapped around it, and I inadvertently pressing several buttons, the caller gave up. The screen said it had been Hiram, so I tried to call back. But somehow I hit the mute button and had to hang up. Eventually he called back, and after explaining I really hadn’t hung up on him twice, he remembered why he called in the first place. Which is a miracle in itself, as the rest of the story proves.

“Did you put muffins in the microwave this morning?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered, and then added. “And I ate them. For breakfast.”

“Okay,” he said. “So these in the microwave are mine?”

I pondered the question for a moment.
I didn’t remember putting more muffins in the microwave.
But the older I get, the more I forget what I’ve really done.
The older I get, the more I confuse what I only considered doing with what I actually did. And the older I get, the more reality seems like a day dream and the more my day dreams feel like reality.

That’s when I realized Hiram and I have been married for a long time, and he’s rubbing off on me. As my internal dialogue confirms, though I have spent the last 35 years pulling him out of the anti-memory-time-and-space vortex where he lives, growing older is gradually sucking me into it with him. My days as household memory queen are numbered. Maybe even over already.

Hesitatingly, I answered. “I don’t think I would put a second set of muffins in the microwave. And my stomach feels full, so I ate mine.”

“Okay.” His voice remained cheerful and unperturbed. “They must be mine. I just don’t remember putting them there.”

I laughed. “We’re pathetic.”

He agreed, and we both hung up. I slipped the phone back in my pocket and felt something long and stringy wrap around it. I pulled the phone out again, along with a tangle of iPod ear buds.

Where in the world did those come from? I wondered. Then I stuffed them in my pocket and walked down the road cheerful and unperturbed.

Just like my husband.

Memory Tests

Memory Tests

by | Sep 25, 2008 | Family

This morning, I took Mom in for a CT scan of her head. This afternoon, she’s taking some memory tests. She’s become more forgetful lately, and we want to know what’s happening.

Now, there are some things from the distant past Mom will never forget – when I lost her good cookie sheet at college, when my sister said the crystal and china Mom forced us to wash and dry every summer was junk. “Junk, I repeat junk, g-u-n-k, junk,” when my brother made his first successful run on his bike and yelled, “I can’t do this. I can’t ride my bike alone!”

But lately, she’s had an increasingly hard time remembering recent events. I’d like to rationalize her forgetfulness away. After all, since I turned fifty my memory’s not  as foolproof as it used to be either. And Mom’s eighty. Surely she’s entitled to forget things now and then.

I’d like to rationalize it all away, but I won’t. Neither will my brother and sister or our spouses. Because we love her. We want to know what’s going on so we can take better care of her. For years, she took care of us, fighting battles that would have defeated a weaker woman. Now it might be time to reverse roles.

So today I’m taking her to her appointments instead of working on my book, viewing the day as a mini-vacation, a needed break from the keyboard. That point of view keeps me from worrying about my deadline. So I’m sitting here in the waiting room, stress free and happy.

Except for one little thing. I don’t have a clue about where I parked my car. Hmmm. Maybe, while I’m here, I should set up my own appointment.