If I think of the recesses of my mind... like a large home that I've built over my lifetime and each room represents friendships and relationships and moments tucked away in drawers... then I've been stuck sorting through one room in particular these last few weeks.
The Room of David.
I don't feel like giving him the honor of being called Soldier on these last few minutes of Veteran's Day.
I am not a vengeful, hateful or spiteful person but I am allowed this. So, I use his real name.
My mind has this fortunate/unfortunate habit of processing and processing like a super-computer until it comes up with a qualified and much analyzed answer for a question. I'm reminded of the big machines you saw on the old TV shows that would chug along until it spit out a card.
Well today, a card was spit out.
I couldn't believe what I saw. I was enjoying going through the drawers in the dressers in the Room of David. I liked finding the sweet tokens of affection and nurturing. And a giant armoire of patience!
Here and there, I started to find things that linked together. Old words spoken, times when things started to seem different... things that he said to me because, quite simply, he couldn't help but tell me everything.
And then when he could no longer tell me everything, I began to notice dead air.
I went back and retraced steps. Forwarded to the things that he said and the way he acted when he was here.
Now I know why it all looked so familiar.
I've spent today packing up the Room of David. Locking away all of those things.
Did you hear that?
That was the sound of the door slamming shut.
No chance. Once. Twice and NO MORE.
I'm in a bad way but I'll get over it.
Give me a few days.
I'll have locked that door and be in the main room of the house again, cleaning away the cobwebs of the present moment. This moment that I'd long forgotten.
This is where I should be.