Huge chunks of my life are wiped from my memory like they never happened, yet I remember the cracks on the sidewalk walking to my friend Bonnie's house in first grade. Do you think that's something I should be concerned about? I can't remember the last five books I read - and LOVED - but I can tell you about standing behind the doll house in kindergarten, crying because Paul Joffee wouldn't walk home with me up Beach Street where there was a crossing guard because he wanted to walk up Parker Avenue and cross at the traffic light like the big kids. My mid-20s to my mid-30s are a complete blur, that includes my wedding and the birth of my first child, but I can still feel the stir in my groin in third grade, for Heaven's sake, when George Rogers slowly put his hand on top of mine on the armrest in the movie theater on a Saturday afternoon. I think this is really strange, and I really don't understand it at all because when we try to pick out a movie to watch, and I make a choice, my husband is always saying, "We've seen that" and I'm too embarrassed to admit I don't remember it at all, even after he goes through the storyline. I can quote you what I've ever paid for any item I've ever purchased, and I can't recommend a book or a movie for fear I'll be asked for a brief synopsis.
caccy46, whose full catalog is here, is a mother of two who's been married for 32 years.