Something is missing

I am now well used to the feeling when I am missing the memory tag that I had chosen to remember a particular day.

When looking back, sometimes I find the day is blank on my internal calendar, even if I can remember some of the other aspects of the day. Sooner or later the image I had pinned to that day comes back to me.

That feeling of something being missed served me in good stead last weekend. My wife and I were leaving home for a conference, planning to call in on my parents on the way past.

As we sat in the car I had that same feeling of something missing.

I knew I had turned everything off that I should be off and locked up. I was certain we hadn't forgotten anything and I resisted the urge to give in to uncertainty and check.

But this time, I recognised my mind was telling me that I was not remembering the full story and I should go back. What I needed to see was not the things my conscious mind told me were fine.

So I went.

On the doorstep lay my wife's leather jacket. I had dropped it when I locked the door.

I went back into the flat as well, just in case. I had been correct to believe there was nothing wrong there.

This is an important lesson. If I had been more alert, I would have realised that my wife's jacket was missing when I placed mine on the parcel shelf of the car.

I did not realise consciously, but this process of remembering has made me more sensitive to when I am not remembering what I need to. And to trust that feeling.