i don't throw
things away.
the meaningful,
the meaningless,
everything is somewhere.
in my house.
in my garage.
tucked away in
places i don't remember,
to be found at
times i don't
expect to find them.
i found a memory
a few weeks ago.
it was nothing, really.
just something i held
on to just
in case...
i can't believe i
kept it
in the first place,
but at the time
it seemed so necessary.
i thought,
or maybe it's better
to say i had a
feeling, that
it may be the last
time we
would see one another.
it wasn't.
we had a couple
of years before that
final moment.
***
when i found it
i knew what it
was and i knew what
it meant at the
time i saved it.
i held it in
my hand, surprised
at the kind of
emotions a little
piece of plastic could elicit,
especially two and
a half years
after shit like this
lost all meaning.
Isn't amazing how things that seem so insignificant can bring back memories that make us cry or laugh. For me it has been finding lists that my husband wrote- his writing was unique to him and it sometimes makes me sad to see it, because it is a reminder of the time he was here with me. Other times it reminds me how much he was a kid and made the everyday an adventure, which makes me smile to remember those times.
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