Halfway to town I remember that when I'm carting books to an event I'm supposed to use the rolling suitcase not something I have to carry. Too late. For the rest of the trip I planned strategies to make sure I would not forget again.

Next day, I'm in the truck ready to turn the key when I realize I forgot the grocery list. Back to the house. How did I forget it when I picked up the re-usable grocery bags?

It is strange that fifteen minutes before I leave, I know exactly what I have to take with me. Then, in the last push to leave, I always forget something.

Often there is something that has to be done in the last minutes before departure. This takes my attention away from where I am heading to what is going on at that moment. By the time I leave, I have to rethink what to take with me.

Sometimes my excuse is that I had to answer the phone. My mind gives attention to the issue in the call, so that by the time I leave, that is at the top of my brain. If the call is complicated, I start to realize, while still talking, that I am getting tight on time. If it is important, I stay with the call even past my intended departure time. But even as I listen with half my attention, I am aware that I am getting late. And I hate to be late.

Knowing how easy it is to forget things, I often load the truck the night before. I leave the water bottle, full, in the middle of the table. Still, something happens to my brain in the last few minutes before departure that means I forget things.

I seem to have something we might call "departure anxiety." I am intent on leaving at the time I arbitrarily set and that intended action gets all my attention. I forget where I am going. I don't focus on where I am. All I think about is leaving.

Sometimes the same thing happens in a conversation with people who tend to be long-winded. Someone catches me at a moment that I am getting ready to go somewhere else with something they want to talk about. If it is really urgent, I can bring my attention to them fully, sit down, work through the question or, if I really must be somewhere else, find a time when we can talk in more detail.

But there are times when I think we've covered the question, and they are still talking, and my attention wanders to where I need to get. I glance at my watch. My intention is to figure out how much time I have. They see that my attention is not on them.

And now I realized that my invented "departure anxiety" is not the question. The issue really is a matter of attentiveness.

My attention is too often captured by my need to leave at the time I set. The ticking clock is too much my focus.

In that unfinished conversation, instead of glancing at my watch, I could tell them that I have someplace to get to at a specific time so that they participate in the decision about when the conversation is complete. That keeps my attention on them rather than my need to leave.

In the situation where the phone rings as I am getting ready to leave, I can take a moment when I hang up to refocus, to settle the topic of the call for the moment and remember where I am headed so that what I need comes back to mind.

One way I work on my attentiveness is Tai Chi. In this practice, we learn to be aware of where we are, where each part of our body is. When I think about a particular move, I realize that I know where my weight is, how my hips turn, where one hand is. Where is that other hand? I work on the move so that I notice where my whole body is.

The hope is that practicing attentiveness in one area will help me learn to attend to where I am rather than my need to depart.

Cathy Hird lives near Walters Falls.