Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Maybe. If I Remember.

A couple of weeks ago, my husband asked why the front porch light was on. I explained the after-school program asked that we leave the light on so that the bus driver knows it was okay to drop off our son.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He stared at me like I'd lost touch with reality.

"You want to know why I'm on edge all the time? It's stuff like this. Like remembering the light needs to be left on." And a billion other details that can't forget but I haven't written down. Like when the library books are due and who needs clean socks and which of my students need letters of recommendation for grad school sooner rather than later.

I'm always trying to think about one thing while I'm doing something else. Like the time I flew cross country with my kids and as we landed and children napped, I rethought parts of an article I was working on. I jotted down a potential title on the back of my boarding pass and a brief outline of one of the sections.

Then, I gathered children, we deplaned, found our rental car, checked into our one-night-only motel, and got everyone ready for bed. I finally settled down with my laptop to write a little bit about the ideas I had so protectively held onto through the baggage claim, fight with the GPS, and while unloading the car.

But, the idea was gone (and so was the boarding pass). It had disintegrated or had been dropped. I tried to blame Delta, but all I could write down was Do all moms work this way?

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