Once upon a time I had a wonderful best friend. She was charming and witty, if not a little quirky. She was my constant companion and for many, many years we did everything together. She was someone I could trust and with whom I could share my deepest, darkest secrets.
She used to be someone I could count on to help me make good decisions, like the time I bought out the grocery store’s entire stock of Ho Ho’s before a blizzard so I wouldn’t go hungry.
She encouraged me when I wanted to do something out of the norm like bleach my hair so flippin’ blonde it came out white and completely washed out my face. I couldn’t see myself in the mirror for a month.
She gently tried to warn me what would happen if I wanted to do something stupid like dye my bleached blonde hair a deep auburn only to have it emerge a flaming, blinding orb of electrifying orange. We will not even go into what it looked like when the dye faded. ::shudder::
My dear friend laughed at my jokes when no one else did, which was quite often. When I cried she didn’t say, “Don’t cry!” Instead she simply informed me that I’d better blow my nose before I left a big honker on the carpet.
Sadly things have changed. My closest confidant, the one who never let me embarrass myself by leaving the house in a “Kiss My Grits” t-shirt, pajama bottoms and cowboy boots, has begun to distance herself from me. She is slowly fading away and it has left me dazed and confused (more so than normal.)
Who is this friend who has turned her back on me, you ask? I’m not one to name names mind you but…
She’s my brain. My noggin. My cerebral cortex.
She is deserting me just when I need her the most. If I forget something she no longer reminds me what it is I forgot. There was a time when she would remind me that I forgot what I forgot. How she knew this I don’t know but it was very impressive. Now, she’s left me in the dark and I struggle to find my way around, the traitor.
Case in point…I found a website listed in a magazine I wanted to check out. I went into the office and realized I forgot the magazine. I go out to the living room and find that I have no clue what I went out there for. I head back to the office and as soon as my ass hit the chair I remembered the magazine, bounced up and went to get it. Again I get to the living room and my brain shuts down. Damn it.
I stomp back to the office, my ass hits the chair and suddenly there is light in my brain. (I wonder if there is some kind of connection between my ass and my brain.) Anyway, I rush out to grab the magazine, all the while chanting, “Magazine, magazine, magazine.” I was determined not to forget again.
I open the magazine only to realize my brain, the turncoat, didn’t remind me to mark the page I needed. I was sure it was somewhere near the back so I searched in vain for 10 minutes before I found what I was looking for on page three.
The other day I made cinnamon rolls (no, I did not make them from scratch thank you very much) and the next thing I know I smell something burning. Thanks to my brain, which had turned tail and ran, I ended up with a pan of moderately charred hockey pucks.
I realize I’m getting older but had hoped my brain and I would grow old together, with grace and dignity. Apparently my brain has other plans. Now I fear I will grow old alone with a brain that only visits on birthdays and holidays. While I struggle to find my keys, my cell phone, my bra (not necessarily in that order), my brain will happily meander about humming Donny Osmonds’ greatest hits.
All I can say is that it’s been a good run. My only hope is that my dear friend will, on occasion, come back and let me know how I’m doing.