The Big Eight O

Trey Smith

If my mother were still alive, she would have turned 80 today. As it is, she didn't live to see 60. She died nearly 22 years ago.

So, today represents nothing more than a day of remembrance and yet, I only vaguely remember my mom. Because of the way my autistic brain works, I can't hear her voice in my mind. If not for photographs, I wouldn't remember what she looked like. I certainly don't remember her presence. All I do remember are facts and tidbits that have been stored away in my rational archives.

In some ways, my lack of personalized memories is sort of sad. On the other hand, I see some benefit to it as well. I don't tend to dwell on the past like so many other people do. I soak in the present and, when now becomes then, it disappears down the proverbial rabbit hole.