Memories

Ain't what they used to be. I traded e-mails with a friend recently. As I was writing, something made me realize that she had celebrated a birthday this month. That's the thing with me and dates. I remember what day something happened but I never know what day it currently is so anniversaries and other milestones pass without me acknowledging them.

I wrote:

I don't know why this came to me now but isn't your birthday in October? I hope you did something fun. One year when I still at the station, folks had a birthday dinner for you at Spaghetti Warehouse and I ducked in for a quick bite between shows. That's all I recall. I don't even know why I remember it was October. I don't know the day.

I was going to tell my friend all about my uncommon memory for numbers and dates. Any kind of number, really. Birthdays of aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, ex-girlfriends -- they're all stuck somewhere in one of the convolutions inside my cranium. But I had prattled on about myself enough already so I spared her.

Good thing. She writes back: "Thanks for remembering... But my bday was in September."

At least I looked only like a medium idiot instead of a total idiot. I replied:

"September? In whatever month it happens, someday you too will have had enough birthdays that your memories will not be as accurate as you remember them."