The Things We Save, Part Two

 

 

As I attempt to give away items

I own that spark memories, some items

won’t let me go. “You’ll need me once again,”

they say, taking command, “How else to draw

this specific memory out of

the clutter of your mind?”* What surprises

me is that those objecting are not

only gifts. Most are my own purchases

of fabric, books, antique tapes and CDs,

knickknacks, magazines, papers and snapshots.

Already—or still—boxed, these anchors sleep

in closets, waking only at the threat

of annihilation. “You won’t always

have the internet,” they insist. “You are

sorry you haven’t scanned all your snapshots,”

they grumble. “But someday you’ll regret

trusting the digital world.” I relent

for the moment, but I think how easy

erasing would be. Now I shred papers,

hold yard sales, and take heavy boxes to

thrift stores. Someday I’ll explain libraries

and museums to them. Someday I won’t see

nor hear them. Someday a larger life force 

will conquer.  But now, like my cats, they reign.

*Quoting my brother Peter’s response to The Things We Saved.

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     © 2021 Susan L. Chast