junk drawer

Outside the sky is trying to hold back October tears, letting a few get brushed away by the trees outside my window. Calm autumn tears. Transitional tears.

I’m huddled up in bed, a drawer from my bedside table in my lap, heavy with misplaced odds and ends. Bottles of lotion, old and new. Lip gloss from various Easter baskets and Christmas stockings. Old CD cases, lists of books to be read, batteries, bobby pins, dental floss, band aids. Everything labeled too essential to be far from my bed, but not essential enough to be sorted into a proper place.

My hand is swallowed by the open mouth in the drawer. I feel a bite and rip my hand out of the pile, dripping red from a hole lightly opened by a rogue thumbtack. I follow the stream of red and see that it’s gathering on a folded up receipt page. It’s crumpled near the back of the drawer, now cloaked in dark human red. I unfold the note.

A page of Barnes and Noble book recommendations, all crossed out. The top of the page proclaims “You may also like…” leading to a penned response that simply states “ME.” Underneath that, “I love you, a lot. R.”

The bleeding of my finger has stopped as the pregnant sky starts to fall. The page is ruined, marred by maroon. I contemplate keeping the page, blood and all. But I’m not that morbid. Not quite yet. This note was never junk, a love note that must have drifted into the drawer outside of a book’s page, where it should have stayed. Maybe soon another note will drift into my hands, kept safer this time. Cherished and protected. This time.

via *