20160120 (senescence)

I use the "keep seven years' worth" for records. I have no idea if that's necessary or worthwhile. Eventually they have to go.

Underneath all that paper

Is the keyboard. Eventually

I have to pay attention 

To the mail and all the other

Documents I’ve set aside.

The paperless age—not here,

Not yet. Monthly payments,

All by electronic funds transfer,

But it’s still worth reviewing 

The heap to see if any got

Mislaid—unpaid. Then to 

Print the statement to file.

I print too much, file 

Too much. But if there’s 

Ever any question I’ve

Probably got the proof.

The one aspect of my

Life where OCD pays off.

At this time of year though

I cull the 2015 records to

Transfer them to an envelope

Labelled “2015” what else?

So the folders gain space

For this year’s. Soon the day

Comes when I the drag the

Shredder close to my side,

Begin removing the envelope

"2008" from existence—all the

Tax forms, medical receipts,

Utility invoices. One does this

Courageously because once

These are gone I will have

Nothing to show when I 

Had my cataracts removed. 

I lost my knee replacement

Two years ago. How long

Since other surgeries?

Anybody’s guess. If I really

Had to pinpoint the period

I try to link stuff with the

Kid’s ages. Let’s see, Andy 

Appeared in The Christmas

Carol when he was in eighth

Grade, born in . . .  which would

Have been, ah, “ca., 1989-90”

Becomes the best guess, and

That’s only for FaceBook TBT.

A biographer will need greater

Specificity (as if I need worry). 

Poet Laureate Billy Collins

In a poem about memory for

People my age likened it to

A book shelf where adding a

Book to one side inadvertently

Knocks two off the other.

Deletion of dates, loss of

Notes, all remind me these 

Memory defects, inability

To recall common words, 

Are just part of aging, not 

Always of mental disease.

When it happens I think

Of my mother’s struggle 

For words after she had the

First of her three, ultimately

Fatal, strokes. Her head 

Nodding as if to indicate

“I’ve almost got it,” her 

Cheeks preparing to sound 

It, and the unmistakeable

Face of frustration when

She looked heavenward and

Gave up trying. I instead 

Turn to Google or a thesaurus.

Sometimes the word returns 

Just as I begin searching.

For a moment I relax

Thinking the worst is not

Happening. Quite wrongly I

Conclude my brain is not

Failing.

C. J.S.Manista, 2016