A Place for a Thing

Its as if she died. Absurd really, since Ive been receiving regular updates from her doctor. I cleaned out her house today. I explained the tragic accident to her neighbors. My promises that she will recover mean nothing as their eyes say "she's dead to us. we wont meet again."

Have you ever packed up a person's home?

The way they store things.

The things they hoard.

Her vocabulary cards for learning the local language were fabricated conversations.

The volunteer that saved her life was humble in recording the event.

When I took the job nobody told me what to do when a volunteer suddenly left. Theres plenty of advice of how to move someone in to their new house - but how do I destroy a home?

Buckets. And tupperware. And a place for everything. Everything is labeled. And measured. She probably never got a Thing until she had a Place.

A couple of project oriented men volunteered to hang a shelf and shower curtain in my bathroom. I awkwardly stood to oversee their work habits and in doing so looked around at my home as if I was seeing in through their eyes. I have a mirror in 3 broken pieces lying in different corners. I have 5 incorrectly balanced chairs in a pile against a wall. I have a single sized mattress on a double sized frame. More books on the floor than I've read all year.

3 harmonicas.

2 guitars.

1 amp.

2 mosquito nets stuffed on a shelf. 0 nets hung over my bed.

1 safe that I really should drill into the wall otherwise its really just a heavy box.

If someone had to pack up my home, I'd rather they just burned everything. My Things have no Place without me.