A Pocket Full of Post-It Notes

 

A Pocket Full of Post-It Notes

Brain fog – did I walk the dog?

Dinner’s in, but the oven’s off!

(remains switched off)

Timers. Constant timers.

Alexa chimes and chimes and chimes once more.

“She’s my friend,” I chant.

She helps me

With what I don’t remember.

Potatoes.

Broccoli.

Salmon.

I remember when I could feed ten.

Now I can’t manage two.

The broccoli—cold again.

A meal half-made, half-forgotten.

Then a random alarm

For what nobody knows.

They say brain fog comes and goes,

But really, with menopause—nobody knows.

A post-it note.

My life is a post-it note.

Sticky little post-its—

A thing I used as a teen for fun.

Now I can’t imagine life without one.

My version of shorthand—

But what does it mean?

“£65” I’ve written—but why? Whom?

The mystery begins.

My life on a post-it note.

A pocket full of post-it notes.

“Black tea?”

“What tea?” the Barista asks.

“Good question,” I reply,

Wishing they’d tell me.

I’ve been a regular in the past.

How did something so easy

Become something so hard?

Coffee.

Pockets of post-its,

Words of forgotten forgotten.