HOW SOON WE FORGET

On Valentine’s Day, I attended a ladies’ luncheon at a local restaurant. I had my hair done, and I exchanged my sweatshirt and pants for a suit.

I parked the car, and as I walked across the restaurant parking lot, I heard a familiar voice boom “Hello!” behind me. I didn't know if the "hello" was meant for me or not, but I turned to see “Big Mike” of Disaster Response, the contractor who shepherded us through the renovation of the farmhouse after the great water debacle of 2018. We visited face to face on a regular basis for more than a year. The house was one nightmare while the insurance work was another. Big Mike worked through all of it. We couldn’t have done it without him. Clearly he was calling to me.

“Well, hello,” I said. “I haven’t seen you in a long time, and I guess that’s a good thing.” (In reality, it has only been six months since we signed the final papers.)

“I know that I know you from somewhere,” he said, “but I just can’t place you.”

“Oh, this is hilarious!” I thought to myself. “I’m Kathy of the Gilbert farmhouse,” I said, thinking these few words would spark his memory. I might have done better with this situation, but I was on my way to meet people and somewhat distracted.

“Well, how have you been?” he asked, as we continued to walk along together. I commenced to explain that we were basically fine but Mike had had surgery blah blah blah.

“Mike is your brother?” he asked -- and now I had to chuckle a bit.

“No, Mike is my husband,” I said, realizing that this man with whom we had worked for months and who recognized my voice without seeing my face – truly couldn’t place me.

Just then, he blurted out, “Oh!” and the farmhouse address. We both laughed as he went his way and I went mine. That’s the way it is sometimes when you see people out of context. KW