Remnants of the past linger. Tucked away on a shelf, stashed for safekeeping in a box. A t-shirt, a photo, a poem. Not that we would be any different if these physical artifacts were to disappear. At least, for some, like an unused muscle, the memory is encrypted. Like a computer chip, no matter how many times you try to delete something, the bytes of our past remain intact.
Forever the same, no matter how distant. But they remain. Some bring a smile, some a tear. Sometimes both.
And so I try to clean out the closets of time. To make room for what’s to come. And so often, these objects move from the discard pile right back into the keeper pile. Like a vine clinging to a tree—what’s the harm if it can exist symbiotically – if not symbolically?
Would it make a difference if it all disappeared? No. In my brain, in my heart, I will always remember. And hopefully, smile.
