I entered the “Twilight Zone” yesterday. 

Drove full of gusto to complete a task before visiting a doctor in the early afternoon. Only to realize by the time I turned onto the major road, I forgot where I was going. And worse, why! 

But, I didn’t panic. I felt elated. Crazy you might say. How could someone’s loss of short-term memory cause such joy? 

I did not care where I was headed, only that I was happy traveling, going from one place to another. Didn’t even worry that I had no idea what my destination should be. 

Lasted no more than a few seconds. Long enough for me to enjoy a sense of freedom I can only compare to a time when I was younger and just starting out on a journey to go some place I had never gone, or to attempt some feat I looked forward to experiencing the first time. 

Senior moment, you say? First signs of  . . . Good Lord, I forgot the name of it . . .  Of course, Alzheimer’s Disease. 

Destination does not matter so much as the ride getting there

There I go again. Forgetting something. Did not matter, really. Was going to say senility, but had already used the word “senior” as in senior moment, and the artistic side of me “knew” I should not repeat it. 

I got it! The left side of my brain shut down. I was using the right side happily inspiring myself with ideas for stories to write, meditating over a hot cup of coffee following a breakfast of bacon and eggs and home fries at IKEA, when I decided to start writing immediately. Gulped down the coffee, got up from the table and returned my tray to a cart and walked to my car in the nearby lot only to “add” one more chore before going home to “play” with my creative juices. 

Might as well get a haircut. You got more than two hours before the doctor visit. The hair salon is half mile away and it’s early, not quite 10:30 am. Write, cut and see doctor. Piece of cake. 

Got in the car, started it and continued to focus on three story ideas: two girls fighting at a dance: the  Keirsey Temperment Test, and one I’ve forgotten but will come back to me soon. 

I play with words, particularly, a lead sentence to get into the “meat” of the story. (That’s what I was doing when I drove toward my destination.) I could write a “straight news” story, with the who, what, when, where and how bunched together like you see on front pages of newspapers. But, I find that “feature writing,” using what’s called a “delayed lead” or a jazzy lead to set the mood for story-telling works better. 

I turn onto Ridge Pike near Conshohocken and “Hello!” I can’t remember what brought me here. I continue driving, enjoying the sun shine, the wind through the open car window and yes, that exuberant feeling of freedom. 

Destination and outcome doesn’t matter. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Which I did. 

(Never did get the haircut. Had too long of a wait. Scheduled a cut for this afternoon. That’s if I remember the appointment. Got this story out, some 22 hours later. Did I tell you I was late seeing Dr Cohen?)