We have all heard of muscle memory, most of us have experienced it, most likely without even knowing it. One of my examples is writing, by which I mean holding a pen and putting it to actual paper. I cannot see what I am writing, I can only get a slight sense of the straightness of the line. I print by muscle memory.
But what about the rest of our memory? Not so much the recollections that are prompted by any of our senses or a conversation. I am referring to those that come from nowhere, it is out of our mouth before it even registers in our brain.
Recently my husband and I had breakfast at a restaurant at the New Jersey shore that I have been going to for over 30 years; it has been four or five since I was last there. I always get the waffle, despite the word “pancake” being part of the establishment’s name. The menus are printed on paper place mats and as Mister Rain looked it over, he asked did I need him to read me anything? I replied, “No, thanks. I’m getting the waffle, #21.” Although I could not see his face, I did detect his head jerk up. I have a very good memory, sometimes I even surprise and scare myself. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, however, I wasn’t even sure that was the correct corresponding number on the menu. I immediately said so. My husband had already checked, I had it right. Whoa. I was shocked. Mister Rain shook his head, accompanying it with a word under his breath that rhymes with “beardo.”
The food has been good at Uncle Bill’s Pancake House for three decades. I will admit I think of their breakfasts from time to time. When I do, though, I never think of them with a number attached, just syrupy and bacony.
Twenty-three miles north in Atlantic City, “21” has a whole different significance. Here in Ocean City, its subconscious meaning in my life is about more than batter baked in a griddle. It is as ingrained in me as the sand granules that will never completey come out of my packed away beach bag that hasn’t seen the light of day in over ten years. It lives in me where my deceased mom resides, as opposed to where she used to be: across the booth from me at breakfast. She always got the #12 Dollar Pancakes.
No wonder my memory of this place did not waffle.
#sisterrain #alittlesightalotofheart #legallyblindwriter #oceancitynewjersey #unclebillspancake21st #21
