I thought I was losing my mind (which isn’t the first time), because I was seen somewhere I hadn’t been.
Or, I didn’t think I had been there, but maybe I had since a friend was so adamant about my presence. In fact, she had a picture of me socializing with other attendees and recalled exactly what we talked about.
No, I hadn’t been there, had I?
There’s a picture?
But, I was somewhere else that night. I think.
We laughed about either my memory loss, not funny at all to me, or her imagination, and I urged her to send a copy of the picture of me (apparently in an altered state) smoozing with folks who accepted my presence as real.
I hung up from this bizarre exchange questioning my sanity, my memory, and the mental health of my friend. Yes, I am 75. Yes, I have forgotten names of people. Yes, I have roamed from room to room wondering what I was intending to find. But, no, I had never misplaced myself into a different location.
Within an hour, the friend called back, breathlessly apologizing for her mistake–thank goodness!
No, it wasn’t me she saw (I tried to tell her that).
No, she hadn’t had a conversation with me.
Yes, she was embarrassed to admit she doesn’t know what I look like.
And no, the woman she saw doesn’t look that much like me, as best she can now remember.
Well, maybe she had that much wine.
A major sigh of relief escaped my mouth. Thank goodness it wasn’t me who got things mixed up…this time.
I can laugh about this confusion since it could happen to anyone. And under my breath I’m begging,
“Please, please, don’t let it happen to me”.
Aging does have its perils.