Infinity and Jelly Donuts

In a Magnum PI episode, Magnum is shot. He hovers between life and death, watching events unfold around him, and (mostly) is unable to communicate with those he loves. He is aided by a friend, Mac, who had died a few years before. At one point, Mac, the spirit, is eating a jelly donut, and when Magnum asks him where he got it, Mac replies "Time has little to do with infinity and jelly donuts." 

Time has always been fluid to me. Past and present intermingle. My dad might say "I'm going to Salt Lake tomorrow," and I'll acknowledge it, and then the next day, I call to see where he is. Sometimes it's worse than that. Sometimes it's only two minutes later, when I say "What are your plans for tomorrow?" and he gives me that look and says in a patient and weary tone that I've come to recognize, "I'm going to Salt Lake tomorrow." And I say, "Oh. You told me that, didn't you?"

At this point, it would be convenient to point out that a major symptom of my CFS/ME (chronic fatigue syndrome, which is more properly called myalgic encephalytis) is what's called brain fog. (If you've ever had several days of insomnia, you've experienced brain fog yourself.) And it's notoriously bad for short-term memory. Still, I can't totally blame that as I've just never been an "in the moment" kind of person. Or rather, I'm more often to have my mind on a moment in the past or future as I am in the present. As a kid, I was terrible at sports partly because I couldn't concentrate on what I was doing. Or remember the rules that had just been explained to me. 

I can recall entire conversations from second grade. I have a whole etsy wishlist devoted to gifts for relatives' babies not yet conceived (but who will be). I just can't tell you if I brought in the mail today. Sometimes I'm quite sure I brought in the mail, but then I realize I'm remembering the mail from the day before. And then I go out to get the mail, it's not there, I check three more times, and my dad points out that it's Sunday. And I think, "Oh, right, Sunday," and I'm flooded with a memory of the rustle of my brother's corduroy pants as we walked to church (on a rare occasion we went to church.) I think he declared the experience of noisy pants as mortifying and refused to wear them ever again...but I was quite charmed by the sound. And then I say, "Has anyone brought in the mail today?"

My earliest memory that I can date is when I was just barely two and had pneumonia. The only thing more awful than the interminable wait in the emergency room was the result: an enormous Penicillin shot. I always thought I remembered that bigger than it was, but apparently it was indeed pretty impressive. And I remember a few months later, being a flower girl for my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Brian. In fact I remember (probably after photos) being told my part was done and I could go play, but wasn't really sure I should. What if a flower girl emergency arose? 

Speaking of which, and this shows how my mind goes from one thing to the next, when Prince Charles and Princess Diana got married, my great-grandmother and I thought it was the grandest thing ever. (I was four. My great-grandmother was forty, or at least that's what she would have told you.) While we agreed Diana's dress was lovely, we thought the flower girl dresses--taffeta with sashes--were divine. (Grandma Roberts didn't live to see the royal divorce, which is just as well, as she would have been pissed. She'd have taken Diana's side eventually, but she still would have been pissed.) 

Another problem with keeping track of time is that I talk to the spirit world as much as I do the living one. Recently, when I mentioned a conversation I had with my mother, my therapist asked me if the conversation happened before or after Mom died. She added, "I wouldn't normally ask, but I never can be sure with you." Uh, yeah. No one ever said I was dull. Forgetful, yes.....