Every life is a story.
Yesterday I had a phone conversation with a woman with whom I have been friends for over 40 years. A companion in mind and spirit, she is intelligent, creative, and kooky. We laughed long and hard yesterday. This friend was recently diagnosed with the "beginnings of dementia," no fancy names just dementia. Long before she sought the aid of a physician there had been signs, but we didn't want to pay attention. She still seems mostly her old self, but she is concerned as am I where it's all headed. Vowing not to let it get her down, she's doing all kinds of cognitive work and says some days are good and some not so. I reassure her that is just the human condition.
Parts of our conversation were focused on events long past and at times it took both of us plus the husband to recall what we think might have happened. As I watched how our memories are fading, the situation got me thinking that it really is time to set down my life for whoever comes after that might give a shit. Which may be no one.
I'm not much of a fiction writer or I would write in that way, give myself another name and write someone else's story which would be truly mine. mallorys_camera said that all fiction is actually autobiographical and she's right. But I haven't been able to fictionalize myself so I guess I'll have a go at just telling it as it was.
I will begin with my great-grandmother, Sarah Butler Essex Daniels, about whom I know very little, but at least do remember her. The plan was to start today, but I can't seem to log into my account at ancestry and am too aggravated right now to keep on trying. Much easier to access what's all ready recorded there for a jumpstart.
Besides, I don't have a title.