Me forget not

Maybe here's what I fear -- forgetting.

In my old age, I need to have recall of all the trivia and infotainment that never lets me get bored during my internal dialogues.

Just today, I sat on the sofa for 6 full minutes because I couldn't remember Keither Richards' name. Just his name. I could picture him; I could recall one hundred and one memes about him. I could name and sing songs he wrote. I could yell "Glimmer Twins" as loud as I wanted and only mean "Mick." But I couldn't remember the name "Keith Richards." I refused to look it up and, finally and fortunately, I remembered. But the delay scared me.

I figure I will need an aide with an encyclopedic knowledge of popular culture (then and now), history and me to act as interpreter and be able to translate my half completed thoughts and sentences, my gap filled statements where I struggle to fill in important details that have camped on the Cape of My Tongue and refuse to leave on the long trek to conscious thought. That person will have to intuit my thoughts and references and provide missing facts that make my nonsense sense. Imagine how scary I'll be without my translator, lost in the middle of a thousand thoughts, none within my grasp, flailing about for words flying away.

This is what I fear -- an inability to remember, express and interact.