I have things I don’t use, but can’t bear to give away. They accumulate and don’t bother me. Occasionally they come to mind. Usually due to an acquaintance or memory.
This happened recently. A side table, I’d stored away. I knew exactly where it was, beside my desk. But when I looked it wasn’t there. Things get rearranged, so I look in the second bedroom. No. The garage… No. I look again. And again.
“Have you seen that side table I used at my desk?” I ask. Blank stares. My husband has no idea what I’m talking about.
I look again. And again.
The promised item is missing, and I feel a bit crazy when I tell my friend this news. But, I let it go. I don’t hold on to that sort of thing. Perhaps that’s what happened to the table. I let it go.
A month, maybe two passes. My husband sells his business, and the garage becomes the target of his new found time. I stay away from the noise that emanates from the front of the house. Garbage cans fill. Things get rearranged.
After a week, maybe two the dust settles, space has been cleared for me to park my car. Then one day, just before I leave for a three-day field trip, I look on the second shelf, for one of the three sleeping bags we store in the garage. Missing.
I walk in the house, thinking it must be in the hall closet. Soon I come to find out, the sleeping bags, have been given away. The moment of irritation passes; I pack sheets and a blanket. Like the side table, I let it go, and leave for the field trip.
Days later, I walk in and find the side table. Resurrected in the office.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for Slice of Life Tuesdays. Read more slices here.