Tuesday, April 13, 2021

Cleaning Memories

When disaster strikes lives are upended. The echoes of the day continue. The mess sits there like wreckage strewn on a beach, with no one around to pick it up.

And we can be perfectly content living in the mess.

I was. Until I decided to fight back against the mental garbage which mirrored the disarray in my house. Slowly cleaning, slowly reorganizing, slowly taking back one part of a room after another.

I could not clear the memories away, thus, I could not live in these spaces. They were not my own. They belonged to the debris of the past, strewn with memories and bits and pieces of things I wished to keep, yet could not bring myself to part with.

But part with them I must.

And I have.

With each day I do more, I clear more out, and I push back the past and work towards a future. While the house was not filthy, it was disorganized with things sitting in the same place for years that had no use nor purpose. Those things were always there. So they stayed there.

And there they stayed like a comforting memory of better times.

Times no longer here.

I tried coming back, the echoes of foreshadowing ringing through my mind like this is where I wanted to be but could never really be here unless something changed. And since the house was stuck in the past, so was I.

So here and there, I would post as if I were coming back. Those were hopes, not the actual return.

You know if someone is back if they are there every day. I wasn't. So I was still away, but just sending signals of myself still being here, still alive, and still thinking.

So much has changed.

So have I.

I think the hardest part is admitting it.

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