Mother Nature put on her gray lady suit this morning. Drab makes me shiver. Coffee cup, hot dish water, mitts -- my hands and feet seem beyond help today. I will resist the urge to bundle up on the couch with the heating pad at least until I make some headway with the chores.
Dust on the tables forms shadows of knickknack bases. Cat paw prints mark the route from the floor, across the table to the window and back. Dried food paints a history of the past several meals on the plates stacked on the cabinet. Out of place objects cry to find their way back home.
Invisible visitors hang their traps in the high corners of the ceilings. Perfect patterns undisturbed for weeks. Do they creep in search of new places in the wee hours of the night? I do not know for I only see evidence of their existence.
Papers, books and other bits and pieces of my life are stuffed in disarray in a closet. Most serve as tokens or markers. Do I really need the program from a musical I participated in some 40 years ago? Or love letters from my first boyfriend? A desiccated flower whose origin I no longer remember? Some of the objects near the age of antique. A Viewmaster in the original box. A transistor radio. A pool cue in a carrying case. A camera which requires film fell into obsolescence last year. The bag may contain undeveloped images, record of a time I have forgotten.
Coated in grimey layers of dust under the cabinet in the bathroom another symbol of the times -- hot rollers. Also in the cabinet rests a jewelry box with various pieces of junk jewelry. Love beads. A disco inspired neckace, a tiny silver roadrunner with a piece of turquoise as his eye. My mother's Bulova watch with the black cord band.
I wonder what the one who will have to go through these relics will think? I hope whoever does it will take the time to ponder the life they represent.
I miss you, Dude.
Later.
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