I Used To Drive In The Fast Lane
Antonio D'Andrea
©
Copyright 2025 by Antonio D'Andrea

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Photo courtesy of Reinhold Möller at
Wikimedia Commons. |
The
fellow that entered the freeway behind me became impatient with my 60
miles per
hour speed and angrily zoomed around me and crossed three lanes into
the fast lane.
“I
used to drive in the fast lane, remember?” I asked my wife
sitting next to me.
“ No,
not really. I remember me being a faster driver than you. You were
always a
very
cautious driver.” She responded.
Ellen, my soulmate for the
last 50 years, had to
stop driving about five years ago, when her memory started to fade.
It starts slow
this
Alzheimer’s thing. Little by little, you scarcely notice the
changes it’s so subtle and
so sneaky.
We
were on our way to see the doctor now. Ellen had not been officially
diagnosed with
Alzheimer’s, but we both knew what it was. Maybe it was
dementia, we didn’t know
the difference.
My beautiful wife had refused to discuss
her memory
loss with the
doctor and insisted I not mention it either. I did give the doctor
some hints and by the
looks she gave me back, I think she understood.
I
am 86 years old and my wife is 81 and we’ve had a wonderful
life together and wonderful
memories. Luckily, Ellen can recall many, many old memories. This
disease,
doesn’t seem to have any specific pattern as to what you can
remember and
what you forget.
At
our age we realize there is no cure for us, so we just live our lives
as best we can,
taking one day at a time and enjoying what ever pleasures we can.
“Remember
that little green MG convertible I had when we first met?” She
said.
“Barely.
That was fifty years ago” I said. Amazed that she could
remember that
car
and not what she had for breakfast this morning.
“What about
it?” I wanted to keep
the conversation going.
“Do you remember the time, I was
driving you over the mountain
to San Juan Capistrano, and I started racing that Porsche and you
were screaming
to high heaven that we were going to crash and I just kept laughing?”
“How
could I ever forget”
“Those
were fun days, weren’t they?”
“Yes,
they were”
“Where
are we going now? I forgot “ She asked.
Back
to the present and reality.
(Unless
you
type
the
author's name
in
the subject
line
of the message
we
won't know where to send it.)