The Appointment Season

In October, I remember everything I meant to do in summer.

The dentist. The eye test. The GP appointment I made a note about in June and then postponed because summer was easier than the administration of summer. The things that require making a phone call, finding a slot, coordinating four people's schedules, remembering to tell the school, and then doing it again in six months.

The appointment season is October. It is mine.

This is not because I was assigned it. It is because I am the person who remembers that it exists. Medical administration lives in the head of whoever first took responsibility for it, and it lives there permanently, quietly generating reminders for itself in the background of everything else.

I've been trying to move some of this.

The eye tests are his now. Fully: the booking, the reminder, the taking-them, the new glasses if needed. I handed him the category, not the task. The category is: eyes. Whatever that requires, whenever it needs doing — that's his to know about.

He made the appointment last month. I didn't remind him. He did it because he remembered, because it was his to remember.

This is what it feels like when a category moves. There's a small silence in your head where the reminder used to live.