Usually I think my memory was unaffected by the stroke.
Then it happens: something I used to do that comes back, almost without effort--and I realize that part of myself has been missing for almost two years.
Like last week, I was rummaging around the fridge, and saw that we had some beets that were looking old. My family loves beets. Neal and I love the taste; the kids love fact that eating beets makes their pee turns red.
I used to cook beets every so often--pre-stroke--after the kids were in bed. I would start them simmering, and them do something else: do emails; pay bills; write. It was very satisfying.
When I saw the beets last week, my hands got to work. I got the beets out from the fridge, turned the water on (with my right hand!) and put the beets on to boil. I put the timer on, then browsed the Web. Neal and I took turns checking on the beets, making sure that they weren't boiling over. When they were done, I slipped the skins off, and then put them in a container for salad for some other day.
There is no punchline here. No funny story about weird things I forgot to do, or a story about the kids' reaction. It's just about this feeling I have, that my mind is like a bicycle slowly changing gears upwards.
22 minutes ago