Memory

A couple of days ago The Man told me he had been watching some video we took in Malaysia, a long time ago. This was news to me. I didn't remember taking any video in Malaysia at all, but if he had been watching it then I supposed it must be true. He asked,

"Did we meet your friend Anne, from New Zealand, there, in nineteen ninety-something?"

"I don't think so," I said. "Why?"

"There's a couple drinking tea at Johnny's tea stall, with you," he said. "I'm not sure who they are, but I thought it was Anne and her husband, you know, that fuzzy guy."

"You mean John? With a beard?"

"Yes," he said.

I thought about it.

"I don't THINK we ever met them there," I said.

He thought about it, too. We stared at each other, frowning and trying to remember.

"I met Anne in Thailand, but that was a long time ago, before we ever went to Malaysia," I said. "I'm fairly sure you've only ever met Anne and John once, in New Zealand."

"That's what I thought, too," said The Man. "But we wouldn't video strangers, would we? I thought they looked like friends of yours. So who were they?"

We thought some more.

"I should look at the video," I said.

"Not now," said The Man. "I'm going to bed."

I sat, trying to remember a trip to Malaysia on which we met a couple, friends of mine, the man with a fuzzy face. I couldn't. Surely that couple in the video must be strangers we just happened to meet.

I'm afraid to look at the video now, in case I discover we did meet my friends and I have absolutely no recollection of it.

I wonder if this is what our old age will be like? We'll sit around looking at the evidence of a fascinating and exotic life but won't be able to remember any of it.

It's a good thing I keep a blog these days.