The second time I heard one of my sons patient, adorable sighs, I remembered previous conversations, especially one with Zoe:
Notably Sound – Repost from 9/15/2014
Fast forward 150 minutes; epic – even for us. We touched all bases; our families, work, health, mutual friends, political and social concerns. Then, for fun, we skimmed back over my notes from our past year’s conversations.
The happiest benefit of this old habit is seeing conversation details are accurately recorded.
So… you may be thinking.
So, my assessment today addresses how my amazing, adult sons imply (but wouldn’t dare say), “Mom, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I recognize the tone more frequently than ever before. Even when they were teens – and learned to never say that to me again. “That’s odd, Son. I thought you said you like liver. Silly me. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Now they suggest I’m either confused about statements from previous talks or I really wasn’t listening – like that ever happens : } I confess I once found an old shopping list there – just once.
From my trusty notebooks, our typical conversations appear compressed into time restraints and are multi-directional. Though the subjects get jumbled among various subjects; jobs, rapidly growing kids, classes, fitness, etc., reviewing my notes serve me well. Though days or weeks may have lapsed, I am indelibly assured in my grasp of the conversations.
On this down slope of mid-life, this too is kind of a big deal. Modern medicine has forced us to minor in self-diagnosis so that especially the savvy peri-senior is watchful for symptoms of dementia, senility and a host of distresses and diseases.
I am happy to report that according to my notes, Zoe and I are in good shape; at least between our ears!
“That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day.” 2 Corinthians 4:16 (NLT)