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Digital memory

I found myself distractedly fingering the place where the bra and bra strap meet the other day. As I waited for the light to change, I realized that I was subconsciously expecting to feel the bump of the breastfeeding clasp under my shirt, anticipating the release of the clasp.  But, alas, that bra is either packed away or was so full of holes it required more drastic action and its requirement is, for the time being at least, unnecessary.

Someone I know who grew up smoking, and finally quit after 20 years, told me once that for a good 15 years after quitting he still reached for his phantom pack in his breast pocket each and every time he got into his car.

I have found myself going to call a friend and stop myself from using a phone number that has been out of service for years.  I always marvel at how my fingers remember passwords that other parts of my brain cannot.  If I am forced to write down a password without a keyboard, I inevitably get it wrong.

The other day I tried to teach my daughter, upon her insistence, how to tie shoelaces.  I tried to do it logically, step-by-step but it was an exercise in frustration for both of us because I kept messing up.  Believe me, I can tie my shoes.  I do it everyday more than once without thinking, even a little.

But she wants to learn. She needs to learn.  I will find a way to remember another way.

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