I remember exactly what I need until the moment I leave the room in search of it. It’s as if a magic breeze flows through the house, sweeping my mind clean of its every intention the moment I cross a sill. Gone. Empty. Forgotten. I stand there, bemused, searching for the thought I had possessed a scant moment before. Where was I going? What was I looking for?
If I fight it, if I get angry or frustrated, if I grieve my aging acuity, all is lost.
But if I stand receptive, in silence, lo and behold. The currents swirl, the breeze comes around again. Gentle as a settling leaf, it drops my thought back into my head, and twists away chuckling.