My mother had a saying that I heard all too often during my childhood: “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached.” Sadly, she was right.

I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of my whole life looking for what I have lost, misplaced, or simply forgotten. No, it’s not just ordinary car keys or reading glasses. Or please, God, my cell phone.

I was a latchkey kid who couldn’t hang onto house keys. I lost keys at a rate that made the hardware store man shake his head. I was a regular customer at age eight.

And mittens? Snow hats? Library books? I forgot them all, the second they were out of my hands.

“Where were you?” my frustrated mother would ask.

“I don’t remember,” was my usual answer.

But my mother got even with me decades later. She’d always had a good memory. When late-in-life forgetfulness set in, it was just a natural function of being 95 years old.

After Mom moved to assisted living at the Rouse Suites, I visited most days. The Rouse Suites are in Youngsville, 11 miles from Warren. I always called before I left work to see what she needed. Once in a while I’d shop for a few items, but mostly she said, “Nope, I’m good. See you soon.”

Then one day, she slipped. SHE forgot. After a few hours visit, I was heading home for a late dinner. She said, “Oh, I forgot. I need a package of Depends. Can you drive into Youngsville and get them before you leave?”

Mentally adding another 20 minutes to my 8 o’clock dinner, I said, “Mom, could they wait until tomorrow?”

“Well, I’ll need them first thing in the morning.” OK. Not much of a problem. Until she forgot again the following week. I started asking specifically if she needed them, and that worked for a while. Until she forgot that she had already used the full package she thought was still under the sink.

I decided I was never going to make that last-minute round trip again and started hoarding Depends. Walmart never had huge supplies, but when her preferred style was on the shelf, I bought them. I kept a bag in the back seat with a package or two. And then I began storing them in the lower hold of the “way back.” Besides the spare tire, the only other occupant of that shallow storage was a set of stadium seat cushions. It was easy to fill the rest of the space with Depends.

When Mom moved to the nursing home, then eventually to the Hospice House, I didn’t have to bring her much at all – mostly strawberry shortcake and hot corn on the cob. Her wants were small. I lost her in September of 2016.

Fast forward a few years. My 10-year-old RAV4 was beginning to cost me money, and I began thinking about something newer. It was a January Saturday when I met Mike, the world’s nicest car salesman. Buying my Honda CR-V was actually a pleasurable experience. Mike said it would be ready Monday afternoon.

I cleaned out my trade-in over the weekend – glove box, center console, seat back pockets, way back, even the maps in the door pockets. On Monday, Dear Richard and I drove to Erie after work in the cold dark. It was snowing when we found Mike and he declared, “She’s all ready for you.” There glistening under the lights was my new baby. I named her “Lastcar” – rhymes with NASCAR.

I was ready to hand the RAV4 keys to Mike when I remembered. I said to Richard, “Omigosh, the stadium cushions. I don’t want to forget those.” I opened the tailgate in the now blowing snow. I lifted the large lid on the lower hold, and there, wall-to-wall, front to back, was a mini-warehouse of pink Depends packages. I had forgotten them. Completely. I drove around the mid-Atlantic states for three years with a world-class supply of large Depends.

We stood in the snow and laughed. And then we realized that I had promised Mike my trade-in was all cleaned out. I needed to get this large supply into the back of my new car without his seeing them. Looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t just laugh it off. I was embarrassed. I don’t know whether it was the product itself or my stupidity that bothered me the most. Probably both. Richard kept Mike busy with questions while I backed my old Toyota up to “Lastcar” for the surreptitious transfer.

It took over two and half hours to get home in the ensuing blizzard. Although it was a tough drive, we still had to laugh. I had cornered the Depends market in Warren County. And forgot about it.

Some things never change.

Send comments to moby.32@hotmail.com