My parents moved when I was a freshman in college, so I have never "lived" in the house they live in now. I don't know where anything is kept, so sometimes when I am looking for a suit for an imaginary interview, I come across weird artifacts of my past and it's like stepping on a landmine. In my room in Athens, I know exactly where old journals and pictures are kept and I usually don't go looking for trouble. But here, I'll open a drawer and there will be a friendly note from my ex-boyfriend's mom, a birthday card from a friend I've lost touch with, a goofy photograph and I don't know why - these are not sad things - but that shit knocks the wind out of me.
And every once in a while, I'll come across something tangentially from my past, but that I haven't seen before, like my sister's elementary school scrapbook-cum-sketchbook. And I'll smile.
1 comment:
I look so proud in that picture.
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