Through the magic powers of the internet, you won't be able to really tell this ever happened, but if we're being honest, I'm writing this post on Sunday and backdating it a day to make it meet my usual posting schedule. Because last night at about 10pm, I realized I had forgotten to post anything.
Being old like I am meant that when I finally remembered, it was too late.
It's better late than never, right?
While we're on the topic, we might as well discuss the act of forgetting for a little bit.
Forgetting is a very innocent act, if you really think about it. It's not one of malicious intent, because if there was intent, it wouldn't be forgetting. It'd be acting on something remembered.
But when someone forgets something for us or about us, we get very offended. A forgotten birthday or anniversary, a missed phone call or text message, even plans to see a movie together all seem like the end of the world if they're forgotten.
I don't think we want to be something that has to be remembered. We want, of the people we want, to be intrinsic, to be instinctive. We don't want to be extra work or something someone has to put effort into. We want to be as unforgettable to them as they are to themselves.
Because we can't forget us. As much as we try to, we can't forget ourselves.