It’s not often that the elements, my wardrobe, and my memory cooperate. Yesterday, as fierce winds were blowing for the third day in a row, I arrived to class, flinging open the doors of the reception area. Cold air burst in with me, winds whipped my hair and scarf wildly, and I was seized by the words of Percy Bysshe Shelley. With fervor and an untamed spirit, I spewed forth the beginning of his poem, ”Ode to the West Wind.”
The receptionist was duly impressed, if not entertained. We both appreciated how tidbits from long ago seep back into our minds.
Now, if only I could remember what I had for lunch two days ago?