19 June 2021

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.


My blog poems are rough drafts.
   Please respect my copyright. 
 If you quote, credit this page.

     © 2021 Susan L. Chast


2 comments:

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I so relate to this. Some things we hold onto a bit longer, under my bed are tubs of photos. Because computers crash. Smiles.

Geo. said...

Dear Susan Chast, this post moved me. I still have notes, artifacts and letters in boxes --friends, relatives, beloved individuals from long ago-- under the workbench in my pumphouse. Recently, I opened a single attache and read far into the night. The stories that unfolded from their lives filled a void in me. Not an entirely pleasant void --they had their challenges-- but still, I was weary and wiser.