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being nessasary

a quirky look into being

A lovely book of short stories themed around the things we carry (and the Vietnam War).

Poet Ralph Waldo Emerson’s adored metaphor describing life as a path (“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”) – is my favorite cliche.  I have an affinity for leaving a trail, in fact, it has been unavoidable due to circumstances.  When I visualize my path, not only do I see a lot of grass and wrinkled tree trunks, I see the things I have dropped along the way (skin cells, priorities), lost (years, friends), reluctantly placed (more than 10 inches of hair, boyfriends), and others I gleefully have chucked far from my person (my bad poetry, more boyfriends, medication).  However, when I journey through my house, I find too many trinkets from things or people I have been unable to cut loose.

This is common (or a super issue if you are familiar with Hoarders).  I am sure you’ve got your box of goodies, or maybe a shelf, scrapbook, or trunk.  No matter the location, the stuff whether it be material or something more, takes up room.  Some things have more mass than others and some have more depth and urgency.  Nonetheless, we carry a lot on our backs.

Several of my pictures and trinkets are reminders of friends and family who have passed away.  I mostly believe I have gotten over their absence in the world, but I like knowing that they were present, and that they mattered.  Plus, seeing a picture of a smile I miss brings a bad day back to the sanity of happy!

There are negative things I have held on to.  There is one, in particular, that weighs me down.  I just can’t let it go. It’s simple stuff, but heavy.  It’s a dumb hurt that should be gone, but I’ve let the depth go beyond where I can dive.  I have hopes I can hold my breath long enough some day to reluctantly place it beside a willow tree.  After all, it’s just a piece of frayed paper.

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