Things that Mean Things

I've been cleaning house lately,

getting rid of things I don't need.

The usual stuff:

Blankets,

Old clothes,

Stuffed animals from years gone by,

Books that have gone untouched for years.

It didn't take long for me to whittle down

All the things I didn't need,

Put away in brown bags to be sent to Goodwill.

Then I found myself amongst

A different pile

Of old things.

A picture frame

that holds four smiling people

And says

"Friends forever."

A few years ago,

I would've held that picture to my chest

and maybe cried.

But I looked at it

and for the first time

I didn't feel

Anything.

An old pillowcase from fourth grade

that I used to cry into

when I had anxiety

but before I realized

anxiety

would become part of my life's narrative.

I looked at it, felt it, smelled it

and it didn't mean

Anything.

A plethora of other pictures

Notes passed in class

Candles from birthdays gone by

I looked at them

sitting in various boxes

and realized -

That's not the way it is anymore.

I used to need those things,

the people in those pictures,

that blanket for comfort,

that note from that person.

But now

I

don't.

What happened?

Nothing, really.

Just time.

Time happened.

Time caused a gap

Caused silence

Caused apathy.

And that's okay.

If we were meant to say in a harbor,

we would be a buoy, not a ship.

We sail. We don't stay.

And by sailing,

We move away from the things

that used to keep us safe

to search for things

that grow us.

We sail away from old memories

that used to make us cry,

but now only bring a tickle to our throat

before disappearing forever.

We part from friends and leave them on the shore,

so they can build their ship

and sail too.

We leave the things

that once used to be

so so important to us

on the sand

to be lapped by the waves.

What used to be treasure is now merely driftwood.

And that's ok.

We weren't meant to crave driftwood,

to hang it in our houses or cling to it at night.

We weren't meant to be tied to the dock.

If we hold onto the things that used to be us,

we'll stop becoming who we're meant to be.

We'll be a ship, but we won't be any use.

We'd hold onto

everything

that ever made us

anything

and

slowly

we'd

sink.

So let go.

a. w.