On Edge

I have always been somewhat of a packrat. Being raised by Depression-era parents, it’s hard for me to part with a good box. I can use it again. Or bubble wrap. Why go pay for that when I’ve got it for free in that package that just arrived?

Then there’s the memorabilia packratness. Drawers are scattered with matchbooks from restaurants I once visited even though I have little use for matches since I quit smoking 8 ½ years ago; pens I’ve “borrowed” from the nicer hotels. I’ve got scraps of paper scribbled with website addresses, quotes and ideas for essays. I can’t throw away a photograph no matter who it is or what it’s of. There are ponytail holders – now that my hair is getting long enough to eek out two scrawny pigtails and emery boards for my horrid nails. There are coupons for places I’ll probably never frequent, but think I might someday; keys that unlock places I don’t know.

In my effort to try and organize a drawer the other day I came across a small picture of a volcano I had clipped from a magazine; the quote printed across it read “Anger is a sign that something needs to change.” I took it as a sign that I found it as it seems to suit my mood lately.

Ready to blow. Ready for a change. Kind of scaring myself. Missing my space. Creating it in not the best of ways. And all the while the anger simmering just under the calm surface.

Remembrance

Someone once told me dates – anniversaries if you will – can lurk in dark forgotten corners of your mind and resurface at the most unexpected times. Sometimes you’re not even aware that it is an “anniversary” ~ you just have a nagging feeling that something is different about that day. It may come and go without you ever recognizing or realizing what it was. But something happened that day that left an indelible mark on your soul.

I have a mind full of trivia – useless information – which really serves no purpose, save perhaps a couple of categories I can ace in “Trivial Pursuit.” I have often wondered how much room I would have for really intelligent conversation were my mind not so full of ineffectual clutter.

Dates. I remember those. Sometimes it’s important to remember; sometimes it’s better to forget. I remember a lot of happy dates; but I remember my share of dark ones, too. Both remind me of how fleeting life is; how quickly things can change ~ even if it takes years. I try to tell myself that the bleak ones make me appreciate the joyous ones.

But sometimes they just remind me of what’s missing, what is forever changed and what will never be again.