They Gypsy Mama

On Forgetting...

I've always sort of worried that I'd forget the simple things.  When I was in high school, I remember backing out of our long driveway, down the steep incline, and into the street while thinking to myself, "Don't forget this."  This act was a part of my daily routine for most of my life, first in the passenger seat and later as the driver.  Leaving the house was such a routine part of my day, but I didn't want to forget what that was like.  I suppose that somewhere inside I realized that my days of backing out of my parents' home were limited.  Intentionally "not forgetting" worked.  I can picture myself in that first car -- an 83? Toyota Corolla (this would be in '90) that drove like a go-cart!  I remember the seats, the dashboard, the steering wheel...

Years later I remember intentionally "not forgetting" while rocking my first baby.  I had that same thought, "Don't forget this" as I held that sweet baby in her pink gown, being very careful to keep her little ear flat against her head on the side she was laying on.  (Great advice from Mrs. Doris Johnson who warned me that her ears might stick out if I didn't take this precaution.)  I haven't forgotten -- I can picture that little living room on South O Street and hear the creak of the antique rocking chair and see her sweet baby face, eyes closed.

I still think "Don't forget this" from time to time.  Those little slices of our daily life, not the huge things, are what could be lost if I didn't take take time to "not forget."