Rememory

I overheard someone saying the other day that their child uses the term "rememory" in place of the word "remembering." Kind of ingenious if you ask me. That kid is smarter than me – as I actually get dumber by the minute. I used to have a nearly photographic memory, and now, most things slip right on through. Sure, I can remember my childhood best friend's birthday and her parents' home address, maybe (*your*) favorite cocktails of choice, and what indelible outfits were worn by former significant others the first time I met them.

But my memory is now failing me, and with it goes all of the information that I was trying to salvage. These keepsakes of different sorts: from familial snapshots of celebratory gatherings, to intimate gestures shared between lovers while awakening entangled in each others' limbs, to random, seemingly useless factoids to mull over aimlessly. They are dissolving in this ever-mutating brain of mine, and heavily contributed to the heightened anxiety that plagued me. It was a direct correlation: the de-crease in memories, the in-crease in anxiety. It was an exponential equation – one that interfered with the quality of my life.

I used to pride myself on my stellar memory. It got me far in school when I simply wasn't as smart as my peers. I could remember things contextually, and relate those facets to other things previously unmentioned, and find connections yet to be discovered. Not like distant stars in the solar system, but tiny flashes of realizations that mattered to me at the time. And that was just it: "what matters at the time."

What mattered for a long time was that I was losing these precious memories, never to be rediscovered. There was no neurological terrain to excavate and retrieve what had been lost. Just gone... So much has simply disappeared. Perhaps then, one could understand why that may have caused my sadness and worry. Rather than solve the mystery of the how and why my memory is escaping me, I have chosen to do what little I can to preserve it, and to also accept this new mind of mine. I have chosen to deflect the worry as it arises in me, and to try to enjoy the life I *do* have, the memories that still linger.

For what are we if we can't remember who we are?