Thursday, May 31, 2012

We hold onto things

                                   
PART I
I folded over the table
where I was  folding newsprint paper
around a picture of something
I wanted to hold onto.

But I couldn’t; I folded it tighter
hugging my fist wrapped picture
to my forehead,
but the tears just came anyway.

It was a picture of a toddler
in a tiny swimsuit
with safety bubble on her back
by a swimming pool.

She is carefully guiding the pool skimmer pole
with her little hands
gathering those annoying bits of leaves and fly parts
that she doesn’t want to swim with--

--little master of her domain.

A sweet moment captured in a frame
a symbol of all the moments I am holding onto. 

                                     *** 
                                    PART II
I have held onto so many things.
There are millions of emblems
bouncing around me.
with their nagging little voices:
Remember me, Love me, Save me;
receipts, old financial papers—
how long do I keep these?,
pictures of everyone I ever knew,
a broken demitasse cup—
a little glue and it would be like new;
an earring missing a pearl—
surely I can find a little pearl to restore it--
handmade baby clothes—
really? Do I need handmade baby clothes??

                                    ***
                                    PART III
This moving thing is not just about packing:
save, give away, trash. Oh no, it’s much more than that.
At my age, I am jettisoning huge tracts of my life,
entire chapters in the shredder, debris down the drain.
Is there any reason to be reminded of any of it anyway?
I shall relegate all memories to that “Where did I put my keys?”
region of the brain.

Their work is done.  Those memories made me.
I need not carry their detritus around with me anymore. 
I need not trail a dust cloud of impertinent minutia.
It is time to fly the coop, leave the nest
of accumulated possessions and lessons learned
and just be.  
So I can just go…

                                    ***
                                    PART IV
Each successive move, I strip more away.

In both possessions and memories.
Soon I will be living in a hut.
Thinking about the present.

Inspired by Suzanne

4 comments:

  1. If only I could do all that without moving!

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  2. This is lovely writing, and these are touching, difficult thoughts. As a pack rat of long standing, I would lean toward holding on to every bit of my physical past, but your words in Part III give me second thoughts. In any event, I hope that I never have to face these decisions with which you are wrestling. You are very strong, very brave.

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  3. Sometimes our paths cross in NY; I don't know about Charleston. Whatever is is and we will always be Bunny Trapper Moms together. Please don't stop blogging! It makes me feel like living next door is the present, not the past!

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    Replies
    1. I love you.
      We are on Canandaigua Lake: Andrea, Yo and the 3 kids. Bit overcast today, but much fishing of sunfish off the dock yesterday.
      Bunny Trapper is all grown up... sigh.

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