I forgot my own appointment but remembered everybody else’s

Dear Delyara, My GP rang asking where I was. That was how I found out I had completely forgotten my own appointment. Not one of the children’s. Not school. Not work. Not the bill deadline. Not the prescription collection. Mine. I apologised and rebooked it while standing in the utility room with a basket of damp clothes on my hip, and the whole thing felt too symbolic to ignore. It is amazing how often my own body gets moved to the edge of the page while I keep the rest of the household legible. I know forgetting one appointment does not mean I don’t matter. It still touched that sore place anyway.