making a list

“Help me understand”, he says.

Mark my words, this is no easy task.  The week before Christmas has overlapped with the moon, and we both understand we both need to be careful.   We’ve loved through thirteen years of Christmases to get to these words.

He stands up from his chair and comes closer.

“When people talk about losing their minds, that’s what it’s like, like something got lost. It’s like I can’t see anything.  I can see the table.  I can see the papers on the table.  But I can’t see past the papers.  I can’t think past the papers.”

I never claimed to be articulate.

He picks up a pencil and reaches for the paper.  I just read somewhere that the shortest pencil is stronger than the longest memory.  When I was a girl, I knew birthdays and addresses and phone numbers by heart.  I don’t need to write things down.

“Tell me what still needs to be done.”

He waits. One by one, little by little, I watch as the shorted circuits of my thoughts become something I can see.  Tomorrow Aunt Donna is coming over for six hours to make bread and I’ve got one last shopping trip before the presents are complete.

But now I’ve got this list.

It’s like a light bulb just came on.

And I can see what I’ve been missing.

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