I pulled my bed away from the wall last night to vacuum and pick up the objects that have fallen through the crack since the last time I cleaned. In addition to the (unused) tampon, hair clips and that lonely sock, I saw a blue pocketknife.
For a moment, I faltered. I was sure that it was the Boy’s but what if it wasn’t? I was overwhelmed with the whirlwind of memories that came crashing down on me from last summer, before I met the Boy. In the last 6 months, things have been so amazing that the life I had before him in that room is a very distant memory.
The possibility that there could be something left behind from that summer was disturbing. I sent him a text message and asked him if he has a blue pocketknife. He replied back saying yes and it had been missing for a while.
I let out the breath that I’d been holding.
It’s not that I am burying my past and denying it. It’s that I’ve already accepted it and started the healing process. I faced the truth and I no longer want my present or my future to be tainted by the past.
Although my room is no longer a place haunted by bad memories and the only reason I can’t sleep at night sometimes is because I miss *him* laying next to me, I’m glad that in 2 months, the Boy and I will be starting a new chapter of our lives down the hall.
Also, I am AMAZED at the amount of STUFF I have managed to store in that closet of a room of mine. Have you ever cleaned and/or packed to move and thought “Where in the world did all of this come from?”