Ever had one of those days where everyone else seems to have had a grand adventure, and you're left wondering if you were even there? That’s exactly what happened during in one of our many trips to Missouri.
We went there to help a friend clean out his house before he moved. It was supposed to be a day of camaraderie, hard work, and maybe a little nostalgia. Instead, for me, it turned into a complete blank slate—a Missouri mystery, if you will.
I woke up the next morning feeling oddly disoriented. My wife found me sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a picture on my phone of the kids in a treehouse. “When did we take this?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.
She laughed and said, “Yesterday, remember?”
Apparently, we’d spent the day sorting through our friend’s belongings and packing up boxes. He was reminiscing about old times, though we hadn’t known him long enough to share those memories. We even managed to squeeze in a trip to Subway for lunch. According to my wife, I was the one who drove us there and back. I had absolutely no recollection of any of it.
“You even helped some,” she told me, recounting the day. “You lifted boxes, cracked jokes, and even had a Dystonic Storm. We thought you were making memories, but it turns out your brain was playing hide and seek with them!”
She went on to explain that I’d also taken photos throughout the day. There was one of the kids playing in the treehouse and another of the little lake behind the house. I couldn’t help but smile at the pictures, even if I didn’t remember taking them.
Living with these memory gaps can be unsettling, like living through a movie you can’t quite remember watching. But having a wife who acts as my memory keeper makes it all a little less daunting. “Did I at least do anything funny?” I asked, hoping for some redeeming moment.
“Oh, plenty,” she said with a grin. “You told the Subway cashier that you wanted a ‘footlong cold cut combo with extra pickles.’” You don’t remember any of that at all? I think she was a little wary of my driving and not remembering any of it.
Her recounting of the day made me realize that even when I’m not fully present in my own memories, I’m still part of our family’s story. And sometimes, that story is enough to fill in the blanks.
So, here’s to the Missouri mystery and the vanished day: the adventures I can’t recall, the laughter I didn’t hear, and the love that guides me through it all. Life might be unpredictable, but at least it’s never boring.
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