Journal Entry

It isn’t that I didn’t want to, it’s that I knew what would happen.

A few days ago, I began the ritual of Spring Cleaning. After a long winter season of laziness and hibernation, things had gotten out of my control. And by things, I mean dust. So, reluctantly I began.

I have an extensive private library and mementos carried-on through the years. They live, for the most part, in my living and writing rooms from whence I began. Two rooms. That’s all. Just two rooms. Should be simple enough. With dust-rag in hand and vacuum at the ready I began what I thought would be a couple of hours, and then on to the next two rooms I would go.

Yeah, right.

I just couldn’t dust and vacuum, shake-out the throw pillows and wash-out the afghans and doilies. Oh no …. I had to reminiscence and ogle over books I’d forgotten I had, wiping clean each one with care. Each one.

At one point, as I was polishing my Memory Boxes, I made the mistake of opening them. Photographs. Ticket stubs …. all things that took me back years. Old knees stiff from sitting Indian-style on the floor, I traveled back through time, visiting young friends and relatives, ones who remain, ones who have since gone.

Fast forward two days (ah, but what a remarkable two days it was). And now, after a day of respite, on to the next two days. Maybe I’ll see you there?

Artist:
Edouard John Mentha
(1858-1915)
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