Package and a Letter for You
Bad timing for that package.
Contents:
1 CD
1 Pottery
1 t-shirt
Not a word
Sender: No name
It was almost like opening an empty bag. There was stuff in it, but...it was empty. Where was the note? Look again...no note?
Have you ever faced a tall, cold slab of granite rock in the winter? That's what it felt like. The contents were the remains of a story that --it would seem now-- was never written, or at least somebody wanted to erase for ever. I wish it wasn't that way.
We rocked to that CD, she coveted the piece of pottery, it was my favorite shirt, the one she wore many nights.
Bad timing, I say, because as I let go, and precisely one day after I blog saying that I've thought about her lately, the empty package shows up at my door. It's just "stuff". I can almost hear those words. But it is that "stuff" that makes up our lives. Places remind us of moments, smells and songs remind us of people, t-shirts and gifts remind us of promises. It cannot be "just stuff" to me. There is a tiny piece of who I am in that stuff, there was a tiny piece of my dreams -albeit already over- that was sent back to me. It reminded me of what it was, of what it wasn't, of what it could have been.
Maybe she is right. It is just stuff. But why then, why, does it make my stomach turn?
Hello again blog, I guess I had to say something tonight. I have moved on, but little things like this remind me of how much she meant to me. There is no need to dig that wound, it is almost closed, but I have to let it heal well before I can think about it again.
If you're reading this, know that I wonder how you are, and how things are back home. I have wanted to keep in touch with Ed and see how he is doing. I haven't, because I don't want to step into boundaries that I feel you want me to respect. I also do not read your blog, I'm afraid of what I might find. I haven't called the person who you asked me not to call either, though I wonder how she is doing. And most of all, I hope you are doing well, and I wonder if I would see you before you fly over the ocean.
Time will tell.
I big hug my friend. I miss you.
Contents:
1 CD
1 Pottery
1 t-shirt
Not a word
Sender: No name
It was almost like opening an empty bag. There was stuff in it, but...it was empty. Where was the note? Look again...no note?
Have you ever faced a tall, cold slab of granite rock in the winter? That's what it felt like. The contents were the remains of a story that --it would seem now-- was never written, or at least somebody wanted to erase for ever. I wish it wasn't that way.
We rocked to that CD, she coveted the piece of pottery, it was my favorite shirt, the one she wore many nights.
Bad timing, I say, because as I let go, and precisely one day after I blog saying that I've thought about her lately, the empty package shows up at my door. It's just "stuff". I can almost hear those words. But it is that "stuff" that makes up our lives. Places remind us of moments, smells and songs remind us of people, t-shirts and gifts remind us of promises. It cannot be "just stuff" to me. There is a tiny piece of who I am in that stuff, there was a tiny piece of my dreams -albeit already over- that was sent back to me. It reminded me of what it was, of what it wasn't, of what it could have been.
Maybe she is right. It is just stuff. But why then, why, does it make my stomach turn?
Hello again blog, I guess I had to say something tonight. I have moved on, but little things like this remind me of how much she meant to me. There is no need to dig that wound, it is almost closed, but I have to let it heal well before I can think about it again.
If you're reading this, know that I wonder how you are, and how things are back home. I have wanted to keep in touch with Ed and see how he is doing. I haven't, because I don't want to step into boundaries that I feel you want me to respect. I also do not read your blog, I'm afraid of what I might find. I haven't called the person who you asked me not to call either, though I wonder how she is doing. And most of all, I hope you are doing well, and I wonder if I would see you before you fly over the ocean.
Time will tell.
I big hug my friend. I miss you.
posted by Juan Pablo at 11:53 PM
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