Lost Lady

I didn’t notice any frosty breath expelling as I breathed in this glorious oxygen that keeps us in the land of the living.  My trusty (not totally convinced) weather app says it’s 8.4° feels like 5.2°.  It is a wee bit on the cooler side but I’m rugged up like the meat in a sausage roll. 

I’ve taken to chatting with the couple that catch the early morn bus (blimey, it’s only 6:12am).  The woman is one I’ve mentioned before, dressed like she’s off to the snow, a true michelin-man-inspired style.  Her bloke looking a lot less padded, assures me he has three layers on. 

The bus seems noisy this morning, there’s no chatter but the whirr of the wheels, the phhsst (what is that sound), the swoosh as the doors open, the whine of the engine as the gears are changed.  The ping to tell the driver, next stop please.  

The days are getting longer, I’m sure of it!  The sky has already lightened to a soft smudged grey. 

Something catches my eye, someone is running, not for exercise, for the bus.  I send a little prayer that the driver has seen her, dark tresses flying.  She made it, and sits next to me.  I commend her on her efforts, she turns to me and smiles.  A beautiful young woman. Not sure if I should mention this, I’m sure she wouldn’t be happy but. . . she may have partaken in a garlic infused dinner last night. 

A quick glance up and the sky, low above the buildings is tinged a subtle pink hue.  There’s a rattle above my head that draws my attention, it’s like torture.  I grit my teeth and will it away.

Is anyone good at trivia?  Me, not so.  However, I will be guessing my socks off tonight.  It’s a new activity, found while scrolling through my FB feed.  I’ve wrangled a friend into coming with me.  

It got me thinking about the myriad of memories in my aging brain. Sure, the day to day activities are done as if by rote and I remember the most obscure moments, weird facts, a treasure trove of the infinitesimal and then have trouble recalling some simple spelling of an every day word. 

Last weekend my friend and I encountered an elderly lady lingering on a corner, looking lost.  Our offer of help was gratefully accepted. With much concentration, she gave us her name and those of her family.  When asked for something that showed where she lived, she proudly presented us with a small sustagen drink, anything else? a lipstick. Where do you live? Near the river. 

Then in a blink, her gentleness turned mean.  She grasp at my phone, trying to drag it from my hand, I was in the midst of a call to the police.  “Give that to me, that’s mine” she growled.  Then took off down the street, bag empty of ID swinging by her side. 

Weaving up and down streets, me on the phone, my friend and I keeping a distance, the officer assuring me we were doing the right thing, as the woman darted across roads, “a car is on its way” he said.  Meanwhile he’s checking what street we’re crossing, where we turn.

“There’s an aged care place nearby” he says.  And just like that, someone calls “Margaret”.  Right next door to the care facility, the neighbour, she smiles, puts a hand on the woman’s shoulder and assured me she would deliver her home.  The officer took his leave and both my friend and I, breathed deeply, turned and went on our way. 

What a complex organ is the human brain?  Without us even knowing, it is sending messages to our limbs, our minds, our fingers and toes.  A true miracle of existence.  Transmitting signals to let us know, if our fight or flight mode should be activated. Setting off alarms, letting us know if we are injured, working like a filofax to bring forth the library of our minds.

I hope my library card is full tonight and my brain is firing on all cylinders. Wish me luck.