The power of an older, leaner, and craftier brain.

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I’ve been thinking about this getting older gig.

Piling bits of mental activity on top of the hundreds of little problems my wondrous brain grapples with each day.

A shrinking organ, science tells me.

Smaller at 73 than at 23.

Every part of me is getting smaller, but my prostate.

Science tells me that, too.

My mother lived to be 96. During visits to my home, before we ventured outside, we spent minutes looking for her purse.

How often did I say, “now, where is that damn purse?” Out of her hearing, of course.

We always found the purse.

It hadn’t walked out the door.

Mom’s brain knew this. It put where is my purse thought at the bottom of the thought pile, inside her shrinking brain.

To be pulled out when needed.

Her brain was adapting to its aging, her aging.

My brain is now doing the same.

Yesterday I lost my car key

It stayed lost longer than usual.

I hear mom’s “I told you it would happen to you.”

“But it’s easier to lose a key than a purse. That’s why we buried the purse with you.”

When my mind puts me to the task of searching for a key, I systematically look at the flat surfaces throughout the house. Easy peasy. There it is.

But not yesterday.

I sat on a hallway bench in my thinker pose.

What problems had my brain solved today?

Peanut butter on toast for breakfast.

Yes, there is an 8:30 AM kettlebell session. Remember your shoes.

Loose brackets on the kitchen cupboard doors. Hmm.

We keep screwdrivers in a box that sits on a stairway shelf.

The photo shows you where my brain found the key, next to the screwdrivers.

Undoubtedly, my brain is slowing down. But it has 73 years of experience to draw upon. It distinguishes wheat from chaff better than ever. It knows to pause and reflect before rushing forward.

It favors the turtle over the hare.

Afterword

Before I took the photo, I needed to find my phone.