Is a memory still a memory when it's gone?
The other day I was talking to my mom on the phone. My parents live in the same little bi-level house that I grew up in on a quiet cul-de-sac in a modest neighborhood in northern Indiana. I try and call once a week or so just to check in and say hi even though life sometimes gets away from me and I find myself going weeks without calling. My parents are in their mid- to late-70s now, and according to society, they are classified as ‘elderly.’ My parents, however, do not know this. Or they don’t like to think they are elderly. I’m not gonna lie, in 30 years, that’s going to be a hard pill for me to swallow too, because at age 45, I feel like I am still clinging to 29 for dear life when it comes to my actions, words and …. emoji usage. But my sisters back in the midwest are carrying the brunt of the weight in the caretaking for my mom and dad. As the lone daughter out west here, my duties are pretty much calling in every so often to see how the weather is back there or having my kids yel
