Getting older

With increasing age, I've noticed that my short-term memory is shot; I can't deny it. I get up from watching TV to get myself a glass of tea, the dog barks to be let out, I let her out, walk back into the living room and notice I still don't have any tea. I make a quick U-turn, get my tea and go back.

My wife, Sandy, sitting on the couch next to me, says I'm wandering around like an unhinged avatar. What's up with that? And what the heck is an avatar? I had to look it up. The only dictionary in the house, except for one that supposedly resides in the computer, is a 60 years old family heirloom. I was afraid it was too old to have a listing for avatar-'cause that sounds like some new-age, made-up word-but there it was: an incarnation of a Hindu deity in human or animal form. Now why would she call me something like that? I think her mind's playing tricks on her. We aren't Hindu.

Time hasn't erased everything from my memory. I'm not that old. Sixty-three isn't as bad as I thought it would be twenty years ago; or maybe I've forgotten everything from twenty years ago . . . nope, I remember working. I was a . . . a . . .worker down at the . . . ah . . . place.

Well, okay, I forget a few minor things, but overall my memory isn't that bad. I still remember important thing like . . . well, when you're my age nothing is all that important anymore. Oh! I remember what it was like to have a sex life-umm, okay, that's not a good example; it's better not to dwell on some things.

Still, I feel I'm just like everyone else. I reckon most folks forget things like birthdays and anniversaries-never could understand why Sandy gets so aggravated over that. I'll swear, that woman doesn't have a sense of humor anymore-gets downright nasty over the littlest things.

Maybe there are a few things I should have a better grasp of; things like getting the grandchildren's names right. But my problem there is understandable; it's not my fault the names are so similar: Ethan and Jacob. I mean, they're both old-timey names; it's a mistake anyone could make.

Well, I gotta go. I hear Sandy is calling me (there's nothing wrong with my hearing). I have to drive her to the . . . . I have to drive her. Now, if I can only find those darn keys.

Learn more about this author, Mike Patrick.
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