Memory

‘I have a problem. I keep forgetting things. Do you think I have a problem?’

‘No. What kind of things?’

‘Little things. Not the big things. I remember big things. I remember birthdays and people who have died and people who are still alive. I remember their names and their faces. I remember films and books. I remember my PIN numbers.’

‘Well, then . . .’

‘But sometimes I come into a room and I don’t remember why. I came into the room for a specific purpose and I don’t know what it was.’

‘We all do that.’

‘So I retrace my footsteps. I go out and come in again. Maybe I wanted a box of matches or to check a word in the dictionary, who knows? I don’t. It’s completely gone.’

‘That happens to everybody occasionally. Don’t worry about it.’

‘But it’s more than occasional. And it’s not like I remember five minutes or even five hours later. I don’t ever remember. And if it’s happening to everybody, shouldn’t everybody be worried? What’s going on?’

‘Nothing is going on. It’s normal, I promise you. It happens more as we age, that’s all. Listen, this is what some psychologist said about it. He, or maybe it was a she, he or she said, it’s not a problem forgetting where you parked your car if, when you find it, you remember parking it. It’s only a problem if, when you find it, you don’t know how it got there.’

‘But you might never find your car. You might have forgotten what it looks like.’

‘That would be a problem. I think the psychologist would consider that problematic.’

‘Who was this? I don’t know any psychologists. Was it Freud?’

‘No, it was someone on the radio. I’ve forgotten the name but, look, it doesn’t matter. I’m not worried.’

‘Maybe you should be. This man or woman on the radio tells you it’s not a problem if you can’t find your car, and you accept that? Were you driving or had you already parked?’

‘No, it wasn’t on the car radio. It was some other time.’

‘I think that’s a problem. Really, I do. If it was me, I’d be worried.’