“Blessed are the forgetful;
for they get the better even of their blunders.”
– Friedrich Nietzsche
I’m a little bit forgetful. It’s true.
I can never remember what I need when I get to the grocery store, so I always make a list, but then I forget to bring that list.
I never know where my keys are.
I don't dare silence my phone because I'll never be able to call and find it again.
Where did I park my car?
What movie is that from?
What did I do with those earrings?
Did I lock the door?
Who sings this?
All things lost, slipping through my mind, everyday.
My family has been fortunate enough to be able to take many trips together. Most of them are road trips (the best kind of trips, in my opinion) and they all start out the same: we groggily climb out of our beds at 4 in the morning, lug our packed suitcases to the top of the stairs and find a cozy spot in the car to fall right back to sleep in. My father - being the charitable man he is - takes the suitcases down the stairs for us and loads them into the car and off we drive until 7am when we wake up whinning for a breakfast stop at Starbucks. This is how it always was; this is how it always is and will be.
Well, except for that one time.
This time we were flying (since you can't drive to Hawaii, but that's another story) but our flight left from LAX early enough so we woke up in the same nature, pulling our suitcases to the top of the stairs. I - being the charitable daughter I am - offered to help my father take all the suitcases out and load them up (we were plus 3 this time, my paternal grandparents and current boyfriend were joining us). We loaded all suitcases and successfully made it to the airport right on time.
Crawling out of the car, Mom instructs us all to grab our suitcases. I search in the pile and don't recognize which is mine. All bags in the pile are slowly collected until the pile disappears and I still do not have my suitcase. "Where's mine?" I ask - and everyone shrugs until mom says "Oh Kelsey, did you forget your luggage?"
Yes, yes I did.
Apparently we were all supposed to leave are bags at the BOTTOM of the stairs this time. When we returned, there my lonely luggage sat - in the usual drop off spot - at the top of the stairs.
Luckily, I have 3 sisters and we all wear pretty much the same size. Mom bought me a bathing suit and that really would have sufficed: in Hawaii you pretty much LIVE in your swimsuit. But it gave us a good laugh and a story I will never forget. Well, I might. But my family would never let me.
“May you never forget what is worth remembering, nor ever remember what is best forgotten.” – Irish Blessing.