I started writing this blog in July of 2005. In that time, I’ve published over 1,000 stories about my life as an older mother of a little boy. And I’ve got another 1,000 stories that I have sketched out in notes but have never gotten around to writing and yet another 1,000 stories that were never written because I thought, in that moment, that I would jot down a note about it as soon as I could find a pen and I would write about it later. But in the distraction of life I never found the pen, never wrote the note and I simply forgot about it.
Or worse, it’s not entirely forgotten, just mostly forgotten.
Often at the end of the day as I burrow into my pillow waiting for sleep to take me away, I want to turn to my husband and tell him about some remarkable thing that Sean said or did that day. A small, sticky, persistent gnat of a memory buzzes around the dark perimeter of my brain, taunting and annoying me. It won’t be shooed away and it won’t light long enough to show itself. All I know is that something happened that day that I want to share, but I just can’t quite reconstitute the memory.
So I turn to AD and I tell him, “Sean said the funniest thing today.”
And he says, “Really? What? Tell me.”
And I say, “I have no idea. But it was really funny.”