When I got to 6:30 p.m. I couldn’t account for how I spent my day. I literally could not remember what I did after returning from the grocer in the county seat. I tried reconstructing events. When did, I received phone calls, wrote emails, ate food, and the like. It was no help… the afternoon was just gone.

That is worrying to a septuagenarian. Each day is not like the others, and mental engagement is and has been an important part of who I have been. If I’m losing short-term memory, then life as I know it may be out the window.

What I reconstructed was making a new dinner, which included taco filling with guajillo chili sauce made on Wednesday, roasted eggplant, tomatillos, corn, black beans, a jalapeno, Mexican oregano and other seasonings. The alternate view of “losing my short-term memory” is that I became so engaged in the cooking process, I lost track of time and reality beyond that dish. To enter such a creative euphoria is not all bad. The results are evidenced by leftovers in the refrigerator with which I plan to make enchiladas.

Letting go is a normal part of aging. As I said in yesterday’s post on journaling, “I’m not writing a journal today in order to feed another autobiography. I do it to live in the moment it provides.”

Forgetting is a consequence of “living in the moment.” At my age, I’m not sure how I feel about that.