I am
saddened to announce that my Memory Foam Mattress is showing signs of early
dementia. It’s been coming on slowly,
but last night when I expected my mattress (I call him Matt) to couch me in
sublime comfort, instead Matt seemed confused.
Where I typically sink into the softness, Matt pushed back, dipping
where I billow and billowing where I dip. And what’s worse, I count on Matt to
be my backup memory on so many things (when you pay big bucks for a memory foam
mattress you expect more than just a good night’s sleep). Like how many times did I get up at
night? How many times did I sweat
through my nightie? When did I last wash my sheets? Did I pee while I was sleeping? How many
times did I call out a man’s name, and what was the name of the man...please remember what was the name of the man?
Matt and I
have seen some good times….times I don’t remember but expected Matt to remember
for me. But things have changed. Now I spend my time with Matt doing Fit Brain
and other memory-enhancing apps. I show
Matt pictures of when he was just a little bunch of chemicals and when he grew
into spongy foam, trying to bring back memories from his inception. I don’t know if any of my efforts will work,
so I’ve had to come up with Plan O.
Plan O
stands for my little grandson, Ori. He,
too, is spongy and I love when he sinks into my loving arms. I am counting on him to remember the sweetest
moments we share together, remembering my laughter, my tears of joy, my total
and complete love for him. I can’t wait
until he is old enough to spend the night at my house. And hey, if he can
remember the names of any of the men I call out at night...any of them at all...then who needs a
memory foam anyway?
