I Forget

I tend to forget many things these days. I forget to transfer clothes from the washer to the dryer. I forget where I put my notes for class. I forget to pick up the item at the store I really need because I forgot to write it on the list. And, I forget that I am getting older.

Last night, I received an email invitation to dinner at my friend's house. It is an adult-only (not that kind, FRN) dinner party, something small, just a few couples. I was excited to receive the invitation because, after all, I enjoy being in the company of these people. I was even more overjoyed to see that she indicated the children should be left at home. I love my kids, but I don't need them around me every second of the day.

But before I could sit and reply to her email, my brain jumped. Am I old enough to go to an adult-only dinner party? I thought to myself. Am I really that old? Am I not 22 still? I walked through my memories, watched the girls transform from sweet twin cherubs to the eleven year olds they now are. I remembered Aaron in his baby swing and then again last fall in soccer. I saw Melina in her baptismal gown and last week reading a sentence. Holy crap! I AM that old.

And of course, this notion will hit me again and again and again because, as I said, I forget.