Middle Aged Brain
A middle aged moment
is full of stark truth:
I'm not quite as sharp as
I was in my youth.
I stand in my kitchen -
hmmm - why am I here?
Just seconds ago it
seemed purpose was clear.
"Oh well - no big worry"
says middle aged brain,
"If reason's important
I'll find it again."
So middle aged body
just reaches for broom
intent on not wasting
a trip to this room,
and middle aged fingers
find paper and pen
and begin jotting notes
about what to do when.
I have to make lists now
and write myself notes,
which I find in pockets
of jackets and coats.
I list things to do and
I list things to buy -
sometimes they're obscure lists
made I don't know why.
My powers of recall
oft' put to the test,
I lose things too often.
It leaves me distressed.
It seems that I put things
in some "nice safe place" -
a secret location
mind's sure to erase.
Senility's lurking -
can things get much worse?
How many more brain cells
are bound to disperse?
Still, middle aged brain has
put pride on the shelf
and gratefully knows how
to laugh at itself.
I once told my mother,
"If you lose your mind
don't trust me to notice -
I'm not far behind!"
Oh middle aged brain, you
are not all that swift,
you concentrate badly,
and let yourself drift.
I thank you for giving
me reasons to smile.
I won't overtax you -
hang in there a while!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, September 2014
It was another one of those days when the middle aged grey matter just wasn't up to snuff.
I had rescheduled my usual gym day in order to get my hair cut, so I got up and dressed and decided I should be productive until it was time to go. I ate breakfast, threw in some laundry and folded some clothes from the dryer. Then. as I was bringing a load of towels to the upstairs bathroom I noticed the dirty grout around the tub and remembered that I'd been meaning to give it a good scrub with the stuff that cleaned up the grout in the basement bathroom so nicely.
Back downstairs I went to get the grout cleaner so I could begin the task. Of course I couldn't just scrub grout without cleaning the window, and (of course) the dirt from the window and the grout both dripped into the tub and so I needed to clean it too. Then I noticed how slimy the shower curtain was, and pulled it off to toss into the washer. And the whole time I was scrubbing I had this niggling feeling that I was forgetting something.
As I rinsed out my sponge in the sink I caught sight of myself in the mirror and realized I hadn't even brushed my hair yet, so I headed toward the main floor powder room to grab my hairbrush - and as I pulled it through my hair I suddenly remembered that I'd scheduled a hair appointment that day - but when? I hunted down my purse to find the appointment slip, and consulted the nearest clock. Needless to say, in my attempt to not waste time before my hair cut I'd forgotten about the appointment altogether.
I felt really stupid when I called my hairdresser. Luckily she was understanding and able to re-scedule me for later in the day. We both wrote the missed appointment off as just another of those middle-aged brain freeze moments - the kind I've experienced all too often lately. One of my most humiliating had occurred about a week before.
After spending a week away as a family my first task was to clear all the dirty laundry out of our suitcases. I didn't pay any attention to the fact that there was laundry that hadn't been tackled before we'd left - an important detail in the story I'm about to relate.
A few days after we'd returned home I noticed that I couldn't find my favorite sports bra. So I dug out my old one and wore it on the treadmill. But the next day I noticed that another bra seemed to be missing. Again I figured it would show up. Two days later I hoped to head out to the gym, but realized that not only were three of my bras now missing (a big deal, since I currently have six), but two of my workout tops were missing as well!
I proceeded to hunt for my missing attire - searched all my drawers, looked under my bed and behind the washer and dryer - I even checked the laundry baskets I'd sent upstairs full of my sons' clean laundry. Finally I asked my older son if he'd seen any stray bras kicking around.
"What exactly are you accusing me of, Mom?" he deadpanned.
I explained that I was missing some bras and workout tops and he assured me they hadn't ended up in any of his drawers. I rechecked all the places I'd already looked, and feeling frustrated, called my husband at work to vent. I told him I had looked everywhere I could think of, and was getting a bit paranoid - was some lunatic sneaking into our house and making off with my underwear and workout clothes? I mean, wouldn't he be a bit freaked out if half his underwear suddenly went missing?
He agreed it seemed odd, and suggested a few places to look - all of which I'd already covered.
"I'll help you look when I get home," he told me. "Sometimes when things disappear it just takes another person who's not already frustrated to locate them."
I put my missing attire out of my mind and busied myself with other tasks. And when I opened my husband's closet a few hours later to put something away I noticed the basket of laundry on the floor - all of the items I hadn't bothered to wash before we went away - including thee bras and two workout tops.
When I called my husband to tell him I'd found the missing items I was laughing so hard he couldn't understand me. We were both a bit amazed by the fact that neither of us had thought of the most obvious place to look.
"Please tell me you didn't tell anyone in the office about my missing laundry!" I begged him when he got home.
"Too late" he laughed. "Now they're all calling you The Bra Hunter."
It might take me a while to live that one down - at least until my middle aged brain has another misfire.
Which means we'll all forget that incident soon enough.
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