(no subject)
today i feel like crying, a little.
not a great, sobbing cry; not for wrongs done or pain or death or even a bad day. not a joyful cry; for new babies or good news or overwhelming relief. not even a melancholy cry; not for loves lost or discarded ambitions.
and, just a tear or two, really.
for those things we store away in photo albums and backs of closets and under the bed. for grade three friendship bracelets and grade eight love notes. for ticket stubs and old parking passes for the places i used to belong. for old haunts and last year's cups of tea.
just a tear or two, so those things in closet backs and under the bed remain unforgot.
and a tear or two for the paradox that comes from remembering.
not a great, sobbing cry; not for wrongs done or pain or death or even a bad day. not a joyful cry; for new babies or good news or overwhelming relief. not even a melancholy cry; not for loves lost or discarded ambitions.
and, just a tear or two, really.
for those things we store away in photo albums and backs of closets and under the bed. for grade three friendship bracelets and grade eight love notes. for ticket stubs and old parking passes for the places i used to belong. for old haunts and last year's cups of tea.
just a tear or two, so those things in closet backs and under the bed remain unforgot.
and a tear or two for the paradox that comes from remembering.