About those elusive
wisps of thought
By Tinka Tewmutche with ReLiza Tulitel (They're from Eastern Europe)
The problem with forgetting is not age, it's a cache that needs purged!
As I age, I find that my thoughts become more and more elusive. I used to blame it on worn, faulty wiring, but I'm beginning to rethink, on my more lucid moments, that theory. Maybe dementia and Alzheimer's isn't really a breaking down of neurons, but an overflow of knowledge and wisdom and a haphazard filing system. Maybe, just maybe, we have so much up there that we've gathered over the years and have been so busy that we haven't had time to purge our cache or do a good, thorough defragmentation. Yes, the more I think about it, the more sure I am of this theory of (evolution)% of (dance) ^fever), you give # me fever, fever like (I've never ? known) how to/ love (you) make me feel (brand new) key, I think *** that we should get (together) we stand, united $ we (fall)-ing in love with you, I can't @ (help), I need somebody)/2?.
Wait . . .
What was I saying?
Oh, yea, brain overflow. That is definitely the thing.
When me mum (I'm suddenly British) and I get together, we do that a lot. Forget. We take a deep breath, as if formulating a brilliant soliloquy, and then, just like that, it's gone and we reach up both hands in the air and grasp at little elusive butterflies of thought that carelessly and thoughtlessly mock us as they fly away.
Wait . . .
What was I saying?
Oh, yea, brain overflow. That is definitely the thing.
When me mum (I'm suddenly British) and I get together, we do that a lot. Forget. We take a deep breath, as if formulating a brilliant soliloquy, and then, just like that, it's gone and we reach up both hands in the air and grasp at little elusive butterflies of thought that carelessly and thoughtlessly mock us as they fly away.
Sometimes, they revisit, but it's usually after I have gone home and am trying to capture the sleep that is becoming as elusive as those wisps of thought.
I make it sound dreadful, but it can be a blessing. A tremendous blessing. There are many things I no longer remember, like:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
. . .you see what I'm saying.
Fortunately, when the good thoughts do revisit, they land gently on my forehead at 2 in the morning and I am able to get up and put them down on paper before they once again flit away.
Take this story, for instance. Please.
What I mean is, it, this story, may or may not have been written in the wee hours of the morning or in my nightie.
I make it sound dreadful, but it can be a blessing. A tremendous blessing. There are many things I no longer remember, like:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
. . .you see what I'm saying.
Fortunately, when the good thoughts do revisit, they land gently on my forehead at 2 in the morning and I am able to get up and put them down on paper before they once again flit away.
Take this story, for instance. Please.
What I mean is, it, this story, may or may not have been written in the wee hours of the morning or in my nightie.
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Copyright © 2015 by Rent's Due Publications
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, click a button on any page to send email with details of the request.