I’ve got boxes taped shut stacked at my front door. They’ve got big labels sharpied on there angry like “Clothes I never want to see again”, “His useless crap”, “Broken things I want him to have”, and “Memories”. Although that one is empty, I’ve got a lot of those. The idea was that when you found them on your doorstep you’d pick away at the tape and then you’d throw your old shirts and jackets in the washer and you’d put you knick-knacks back in your nightstand and you’d throw away the broken picture frames, shattered glass, and ripped up pictures. But when you pick away at the tape on our box labeled memories you’d find nothing to throw away and I hope that haunts you and you suddenly can’t stop thinking about me. Our favorite memories are the hardest to let go of. Remember me when I cut my hair and got new glasses and you told me you hardly recognized me but that I was beautiful. Try and think now about going to the cabin. Do you remember going to the cabin and we made a mess and we made a pizza and we burned it and I told you I loved you. Remember me telling you everything I dreamed of doing. Remember me jumping in puddles in my rain boots and remember me asking you to stay. When you open the memories box remember all the ‘I love you’s’ and ‘Please stay’s’. Remember me begging you to stay and then I know you’re going to sit on your kitchen floor angry at me but you know that you were wrong, but I mean s***, at least you tried right? You tried to stay? Or am I wrong and it was just so EASY to just walk away and when you can’t sleep at night I hope it’s because you’re thinking of me... I hope you think about how i came to all your games. I hope you think of the posters I made and how loud I cheered for you. And I hope that when you’re driving around at two in the afternoon you stop and park outside the museum and wonder how we went so wrong and I hope that when you sit in your car outside that museum you never want to go back inside unless it’s with me. And I hope that after a great day at work you get in your car to go home and that Greenday song comes on and you wonder why September lasts so long and suddenly you feel really sad, and I hope you don’t change the station. And at 9 o’clock in the morning when you first wake up I hope you think about me and you go for a walk. I know you’ll go sit on that park bench and I hope in that moment you see me swinging on the swings and I hope you remember me telling you I feel like I’m flying and I hope you remember us laying under that tree right there and when you asked me where I’d fly if I could and I know you remember me saying ‘away from here’. I was the one who wanted out but somehow you got lucky. And you got lucky without any wings. I know it sounds like I’m wishing the worst on you but if you feel as hurt by this empty box of memories as I do, in some way I’ll still be connected to you. When you dig deeper in this empty box I hope you remember all the tears I saved and I’m sorry I couldn’t save them all some of them stained my fireplace and I really never meant to hurt you. And I know you flew away but when you come back to the ground to stay a while I hope you feel like me. You know how they say there’s a light at the end of the tunnel? Well, when you walk through the tunnel as long as I have you don’t care about the light anymore you just get so damn tired of the tunnel. When I can’t sleep at night I’m thinking about you and how much I disappointed you and I toss and I turn over how I should’ve held your hand longer at the museum and at 2 in the afternoon when I hear a Greenday song I think about how if I had just walked instead of jumped in those puddles I mean... And at 6 o’clock when I picnic in the park I wonder if I had not told you I wanted to fly away, if you would’ve just... stayed. I want out of the tunnel, I want out of the tunnel, I WANT OUT OF THE TUNNEL I can’t breathe. You came back around for the holiday’s and I could see the weight of the emptiness you found in that box it it looks like you’ve been carrying it for months and I started putting pictures in a box. I put our homecoming pictures, remember that dress? I put us at the museum and I am holding your hand. You’ve got an arm around me and I remember I felt like I was flying, really flying, and not even away from anything. And I put love notes I never gave you and apology notes I almost gave you and I pulled in our favorite movies and old Christmas lights that we strung in your car around December. I filled the box to the top and I folded one tab under another so that it would be easier to open and I wrote in soft in memories, and I sealed it with love. I drove that box to your house and you met me outside in my car because you didn’t want your mom to know you were meeting me cause it would disappoint her too and I’m sorry I hurt you but in most ways I still love you. And when you grab that box your hand touches mine and I feel like I am flying like really flying and I closed my eyes and begged you ‘please stay’ and when I opened my eyes, you had already walked away.
Empty Box of Memories
November 17, 2017