The familiar route home, a path I’d traversed countless times, suddenly felt alien under the night’s dark canopy. As I navigated the shadowy road, a disorienting moment seized me—I was lost, despite knowing every curve and landmark. My speed dropped instinctively, and my eyes darted frantically across the landscape, searching for a recognizable silhouette or landmark. Seconds stretched like minutes until, mercifully, the terrain’s contours realigned in my mind, and recognition washed over me like a wave of relief. The sudden return of spatial awareness was profoundly comforting, a reminder of how our minds can momentarily disconnect from the most well-trodden paths.

As I approach my late seventies, the subtle signs of cognitive decline become increasingly apparent. Memory lapses emerge more frequently, compelling me to develop small strategies to navigate daily challenges. I find myself repeating tasks, correcting initial missteps, and occasionally experiencing moments of genuine concern. These subtle shifts can be overwhelming, transforming even simple routines into complex navigations that test my patience and resilience.

More than twenty years ago, despite having a sharp memory, I still occasionally forgot things. After breaking my ankle and relying on crutches, I quickly learned that navigating stairs was a challenging skill. Like many others who have used crutches, I initially went to great lengths to avoid stairs finding alternative routes whenever possible.

The familiar workplace demanded occasional navigation of stairs, a challenge I had grown accustomed to. On this particular day, I maneuvered through the doorway and ascended the steps with practiced precision. Reaching the center of the room, I paused, surveying my surroundings with a contemplative gaze. Supported by my crutches, I lingered in that moment of uncertainty, acutely aware that my memory had once again abandoned me, leaving me adrift in a sea of forgotten intentions.

As I glanced back at the steeps I had just ascended, a weary realization washed over me. My imminent return would inevitably resurrect the very reasons that initially compelled me to this challenging journey. The prospect of climbing these unforgiving steps twice, rather than the single arduous climb I had hoped for, loomed before me like an unavoidable burden.

As I retraced my steps, the purpose of my initial climb suddenly crystallized in my mind. Purposefully, I ascended the stairs once more, this time with clarity. After swiftly completing my intended task, I descended back to the room where I had started, mission accomplished.

That day, I proved something very important. For the remaining time I was on crutches, I never again forgot why I went from one room to another. That is to say, given the proper encouragement, a person can train their brain. I know I did. When something is important enough, one can keep from forgetting it.

Well, I suppose that’s not entirely true. For some reason, I can’t remember the filter size for my furnace. Every time I go to the store and get to where the filters are, I am reminded that I don’t know the size and I never wrote it down. Now my furnace needs two filters badly, and it keeps getting colder outside.

I guess I will have to make a special trip… In the cold.