Losing That Word

Has it happened to you yet?  It will be a very specific word you need.You can practically see yourself reaching back into your brain almost to it, almost see it taking shape for you, laughing at you with it's hints of the letters it starts with. But it's just not quite there. It's like a wall sits there, slightly translucent so you know what you need is behind it, but giving no clues exactly what it is. 

If left on your own to search it out, you start perhaps with talking around it, circling it carefully. It's almost this other word, but that's totally not it. It's something like this word over here, yet not that either. It kind of means this, and sort of means that, but those aren't sufficient, not the needed word. That precise word still isn't there.

If you're around helpful people, they might offer to fill in your blank. This? That? Did you mean...? They mean well. Often they derail your search.

If you are around polite people, they very well might wait for you to come up with it, leaving you the dignity of actually finding it. And if you still can't, right then, they will refrain from noticing your failure, allowing conversation to resume slowly to where is was going before you tried to find that word.

If you're a bit obsessive, you'll keep hunting, pulling yourself out of the conversation for a bit until either you find your word and chime in again, or give up for the moment and catch up to where conversation went without you. Friends will welcome  you back, happy for whatever you may contribute. You'll find that word later. You're relentless.

It will pop back. Sometimes it's because somebody else helped. Sometimes it's because you looked up similar words and it hid there in with them, describing them, defining them. 

Sometimes it just pops into your head, usually when you actually believe your brain has been busy elsewhere. The brain keeps its mysteries secret. When that elsewhere was sleep, that word will wake you up with a need to tell somebody exactly what it was! Pity them their sleep.

Occasionally somebody else gave you that word in the first place, and you can ask them "Who was...?" or "What did you call....?" When they easily supply it, you will suddenly recognize the word, possibly remembering it for three or four seconds until it escapes again unless you've written it down.

You have to realize that precision is important. Lots of words are "almosts", but almost doesn't do the job. Words are you. They are what you mean, who you are, how you say what you say, write what you write. Your words do not mumble through life. They are a matter of pride, of creativity, of identity. You are blessed by their numbers, the vastness of vocabulary. You play with them, work with them, sleep among them, breathe them in with every breath. They keep you company in silence, support you through hubbub, defend you in anger, soothe you so you can soothe others with them. They are the treasure you have collected throughout your life, which no thief can steal from you.

But then you lose that word.