I forgot I was meant to call my sister

Dear Delyara, She texted at eight saying, “Are we still talking tonight?” and I had that horrible drop inside me because the answer was yes, we had planned to, and I had completely forgotten. Not because I don’t care. Because by the time I got through work, dinner, one child’s upset mood, the laundry, the school form, and my own tiredness, the call had simply disappeared from the front of my mind. It had become one more thing living somewhere in the crowded back room of my brain. I apologised. She was fine. I was not fine. I hate when my love for people gets hidden behind my lack of capacity. That may be one of the loneliest parts of adulthood — caring deeply and still failing at the simple visible actions that prove it.