I’ve recently reconnected, via Facebook, the connector of all lost friends, the first friend I ever recall having. Literally. Before that point, my world probably consisted of my parents and my brother, I don’t remember any friends before her.
And it’s really quite weird. She wrote up all about this one memory involving a graveyard and some strawberries offered to us by a creepy graveyard worker. Apparently I declined on the basis that I was allergic, but I have no recollection of this. I hate that. I hate that I can’t remember things about my own life. There are periods of my life which are almost completely black. Which begs the question……where did I go? What was I doing? Was I so unimpressed with myself that I chose not to even store any memories of my daily life? What if something phenomenal happened? What if something completely random happened, but has since shaped the way I do things (for example, I must eat grapes in an extraordinarily specific way….I must eat two at a time, they must be the same size, and they both have to sit on opposite sides of my mouth, on my back molars, until I bite them at the exact same moment, causing a fantastic grapey explosion).
I seem to remember very piecemeal things about my life. What if I had an incredible epiphone once, and it’s totally lost to my useless, foggy brain? In fact, I’m sure this has occured. I was quite sick for a while a few years back, and the stress of the illness caused me to lose pretty much all short term memory abilities. I was so focused on being sick/getting well, that if a person walked up to me, introduced themselves and walked away only to return three minutes later, I would have no recollection of them. At all. Which scares me a bit. What if I did something stupid? What if I thought of the cure to cancer and just forgot it? Okay, granted, unlikely, but…..you know?
Anyways, back to the long lost friend. She brought back memories of me making cheese slice and mustard sandwiches all by myself (which is probably why I love them to this day, even though people think I am crazy), of us convincing my brother that cool kids drink Ginger Ale up their noses and watching him spit, cough and sputter while he tried to prove his worthiness to us in all of our five year old glory. I remember a helium balloon coming untied from our slide and drifting up to the sky, and me thinking how lucky it was that it would get to see space (yes, I now know my balloon died a fatal, explody type death far before it passed the boundaries of our atmosphere). But then there’s also things I wish I could remember, but I can’t. I know I had a cat and a dog at that time, but try as I might, I cannot picture them anywhere in that house.
Oh well. I have no idea of the point of this post. Maybe it’s the whole reason I’ve started one. To save my memories before my rotting brain consumes and discards them. To write down those little occurences, those funny little situations, those odd quips that really make you stop and think ‘Huh, this is life, isn’t it?’
For now, I will try to defer my impending onset of Alzheimer’s, and try to fill in the gaps by harassing people from my past (or my recent drunken Canada Day fiasco) as to what exactly it is that I’ve done in my life. For some reason, I find it terribly important to be able to catalog my every moment. I guess I’m just neurotic that way.