You notice little things at first. The keys, which you always place in the same bowl by the door, aren’t there one day. You retrace your steps, convinced you must’ve placed them somewhere obvious, but the usual places are all wrong. Conversations with friends become a little harder to follow. You find yourself zoning out or forgetting what was just said, leaving you nodding along to avoid embarrassment.
There’s a word you need, but it’s stuck somewhere in the back of your mind, almost in reach but just not coming. These moments of forgetfulness seem small, but they begin to creep in more often. You laugh it off at first, calling it a "senior moment," but inside, there’s a slight unease growing. Tasks that used to be simple—balancing the checkbook, following a recipe—suddenly feel a little more complicated.
One evening, you notice your sense of time has been off lately. It feels like days are slipping by faster, blending together. You find yourself repeating stories or asking the same questions, unaware that you’ve done so just moments ago. Loved ones exchange glances, but they don't say much, unsure if it’s just forgetfulness or something more.
Then, while driving a familiar route, you pause at an intersection, confused about which way to turn. It’s a place you’ve driven through a hundred times, but for some reason, it’s unfamiliar, almost foreign. You shake it off, but the seed of worry has planted itself deep inside you. The realization begins to creep in: these aren’t just isolated moments of forgetfulness. Something deeper might be at play.
You’re still yourself, but things are subtly shifting.
Comments