Mommy's Pen

A writer's notes on family

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External Memory

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Nora has a scary fantastic memory.  At Christmas time, she memorized The Night Before Christmas.  You know, “the moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a luster of mid-day to objects below…” Memorized.  I have a recording.

This memory of hers is starting to come in very handy.  Sunday at the grocery store, I told her all the things on the grocery list.  Then we went around the store and collected our items.  I said, “It’s time to check-out.”  “What about the bars?” she asked.  I had forgotten the kiddie Clif bars.

Lest you think her memory is triggered only by tasty treats, here’s another example.  Week before last week, there were reminders posted all over Nora’s school that the following Monday was picture day.  I knew there was NO chance of me retaining this information all weekend long, so I put a reminder in my phone.  Monday, before my reminder went off, Nora woke up, stretched, walked into the kitchen and said, “It’s picture day.”

I used to be that sharp, until mommy brain hit me full force.  It all makes sense now, Nora took my brain.

The Gift of Forgetting

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There is a radio program so good, so compelling, that it took me months to realize it’s about science (an area I have only a passing interest in.) It’s called RadioLab.  Recently, they did a program called Limits, and one of the vignettes was about a man with a remarkable memory.  A miserable man.  He could remember every detail of every scene he had ever witnessed, every person he’d ever met, every conversation he’d ever had.  He was constantly barraged with memories he couldn’t get rid of.  His life was a kind of hell.  The host explained his predicament this way, “The act of forgetting is crucial to create preciousness.”

Think of that! Frustrated that you can’t remember someone who sent you a friend request on Facebook?  Fret not! Your forgetfulness of such trivialities makes the memory of your child’s birth even more dear.

The moments we treasure are special because our gorgeous brains can distill life down to its essence.  The name the plumber you used for your last clogged up sink escapes you and a spectacular thunderstorm you foolishly drove through is retained.  You can’t quite remember which summer you went to camp, but you remember the joyful night you all sang songs and told ghost stories around the fire.  You forgot to sign up your child for cello lessons by the deadline, but you nearly cry when you recall the first time that child was able to reach her own foot.

The next time you can’t remember what you promised to bring to the potluck, don’t be discouraged — stop and savor a special moment from your past.