Brain Like a Junk Drawer
Where my jumbled memories are stored
My memories are fragile as porcelain. I long to hold on to every second, recall and relive each happy moment before they slip and shatter, like my coffee mug this morning. Andrew and I were enjoying the view from our back porch, when I went to toss a peanut to a visiting squirrel. My right hand lobbed the treat, and my left hand joined in the motion, throwing instead my Galveston souvenir coffee mug to a confused and startled squirrel. The mug tumbled from my grip and broke into pieces on the concrete.
We visited Galveston after we married and before Covid. I can’t recall the year unless I look it up. Never good at remembering dates, I rely more and more on my phone, calendars, sticky notes. The desk in my office holds a rainbow of colored squares. I keep lists — groceries to buy, books to read, movies to watch, places to visit. This method works until I can’t decide whether “Luce” is a book, movie, or shorthand for lettuce.
“I’ll buy you another mug,” my husband said. “I bet I can find one on eBay.”
“No. It won’t be the same.” How to explain that the kitchsy souvenir held not just my morning coffee, but memories of strolling along the seawall. “We will have to go back to Galveston.”
I pushed the broken bits aside. No more physical remembrance, but I could look at the pictures we took on that trip if I wanted to recall the way the golden hour lit up the historic cemetery we toured.
I have begun a journal detailing each trip we take — the towns we visit, shops where we find the best bargains, fun things we did and might want to do again. I don’t trust my mind to hold the details. There is so much already stuffed there. Why do I recall the register code to ring up a chicken chimichanga, twenty-eight years after I last waited tables at El Chico? It’s 808. The phone number at my childhood home was 542–0549. I can’t tell someone my current work number unless I have my business card at hand.
Do I remember how to drive to a friend’s house, what store carries the salsa that I like best, how many pints are in a quart? Absolutely not. But I do know that the dad from The Brady Bunch was an architect, and Darrin Stephens on the tv show Bewitched worked for an advertising firm.
We made plans to visit Galveston again, this time in cooler weather. I’ll record the trip in my journal, and note the places we go. We’ll wander through The Strand and visit the souvenir shops on the seawall. I’ll look for a replacement for my coffee mug, but this time I’ll buy two, in case I decide to chunk one at a squirrel.
Writer in Plano, Texas trying to get the words out of her head and onto the page. View all posts by mstturpin
Originally published at http://terryeturpin.com on July 9, 2023.
