Holy Jubilada

Where do all the short-term memories that get away, GO?

You know, like when you open yr laptop because you had a thought that could turn into a poem, but what the hell was it? Or, you get up from the recliner because you need something from the bedroom but what the hell was it. Or you see yr new neighbor on the street and after the Buenos Dias, your mouth stays open but the name doesn’t come out, having evaporated into the Mexican morning?

I think all the forgotten bits get together. I strongly suspect those short-termers that get eight-balled have a communal hideaway. I sense them throwing back shots to a Cumbia beat, laughing uproariously at the Forgetters. That’s us, folks.

But maybe, it’s better this way? Who wants all those fleeting thoughts to pile up like gunk in a fountain. Maybe just nod and smile and be happy that the fountain continues to spring up in long-term beauty. Or at least in present-moment cleansing and the grace of hydration.

So wherever they have got to, the dear little snippets of What-the -hell-was-it, perhaps it’s best to be grateful. In the younger days, when every thought seemed IMPORTANT, all that tracking was a job. I mean, whew. But Holy Jubilada*, not anymore. Wherever their secret destination may lie, let’s free ourselves. Let’s let them fly, let’s let the heavy load of lost-thought scraps — GO! Adiós.

       *Jubilada: a jubilated person, aka, retired. Reaching Jubilación (jubilation) is viewed in Mexican culture as representing a well-deserved reward after a life of hard work.

©Susa Silvermarie 2026