I came face-to-face with my past this morning.
In an effort to purge items in my closet that didn’t fit my style anymore,
or to be perfectly honest,
didn’t fit my mature, more generously padded frame anymore,
I stumbled across two of my deceased husband’s favorite shirts.
I stopped cold.
For years and years these shirts lay folded,
waiting to be put in rotation again.
Even more than a photograph or nostalgic song on the radio,
the sight and feel of them took me right back to a time
when we were young and bulletproof.
I kept them because they reminded me of my Hot & Hunky Huzb
who died in his sleep of a heart attack at the age of 39.
I kept them because I thought one of my boys,
who were 7 and 4 at the time of his passing,
might grow into them and I would see them repurposed – resurrected.
I held onto them because a part of me couldn’t let go of that time when all was well.
Does that happen to you?
You’re cruising through
or your desk,
or your drawers
and you unexpectedly tumble back in time?
For me (this time) it was a great memory.
But other times, I’ve stumbled into my dark past.