My husband’s non-existent short-term memory helped me find my memory today. Let me explain. My husband doesn’t have a bad short-term memory. He just doesn’t have one at all. Here’s an example from our recent iPhone fiasco:
Chase: Just meet me at the gym after work and I’ll give you your phone.
Me: Sounds good. I’ll meet you at the gym after work.
After Work…sitting in the gym parking lot…1 minute remaining on my pay-for-use Trac cell phone
Me: Where are you?
Chase: Oh man, I completely forgot!
Somehow I find his inability to remember conversations for longer than 2 minutes kind of cute. It’s empowering for me to be the one in the relationship that tries to remember every little detail. This is one area that I dominate. (He dominates many more – I’ll blog about that at another time.)
This morning I received a phone call at 7:30am from Chase. He told me he forgot to get the laptop out of my car for his presentation at work. He needed me to meet him somewhere so he could pick it up. I smiled to myself as we decided on a convenient place to meet.
We met at Larry’s Quick Stop. I drive by Larry’s every morning on my way to work. I’ve always wanted to stop because the parking lot is always overflowing with eager commuters. I just never had. Today, Chase’s forgetfulness forced me to stop.
Since I was already there, I decided to go inside and pick up one of Larry’s so-called “World Famous Biscuits.” I was flooded with childhood memories the instant I bit into the greasy sausage biscuit. I’ve always been fascinated with how a song or a scent can take you back to an exact time or place in your life, but this was the first time a taste had taken me back.
My dad is a contractor and one of the hardest working individuals I have ever met. When I was little, I would occasionally get to go to work with him. We would always stop and pick up a biscuit before heading to the jobsite. We wouldn’t just stop at a fast food joint – we had to stop at a little country store filled with locals and a cloud of cigarette smoke.
I loved being on the construction site with him. I would wear an oversized tool belt while hammering nails into the wall or pretend deck boards were actually planks and pirates were forcing me to jump. My favorite jobsite was just after my dad finished putting a pool in for someone and it was time to fill it up. I would spend all day sliding down the “slope” into the pool of rising water. To me, my dad’s jobsites were imaginary worlds just waiting for me to explore.
As I drove to work today I thought about how I miss spending an entire day in my dad’s element. The biscuit I ate from Larry’s tasted exactly like those biscuits I would eat with my dad, riding shotgun in his work van, smelling like saw dust and feeling on top of the world. It was a sweet memory to taste.