I’m shredding files….the past….life evidence….memories.
I’m not even looking. Just stuffing paper into the machine.
Growling and grinding until it overheats and stops mid shred.
As if generating momentum isn’t tough enough to manifest without stopping.
1000 scripts abandoned on the roadside.
1000 vintage books in the dumpster
It’s sad, dark, poetic, but liberating.
A release. A vanquishing.
Curled paper scraps all over the hardwood floor.
Bits and pieces rain down like confetti at a party,
then ground into the dirt and stuck to the bottom of shoes.
Once important documents pulverized into dust.
Marty’s cancer treatment schedules….dust
My history on the Peabody Awards board ….dust
where we went and what we did…..poof, gone.
None of it matters anymore.
It probably never did.
But the allusion of importance keeps us going.
Keeps us stuck collecting papers.
Making folders, hoarding proof
memories and ideas about our life
Our best life
our precious life,
our one and only life
Inhaling paper dust like blow in the 80s
Filling brown Santa sacks with shreddings and shards
And dragging them out to the trash
A new holiday catalog arrived in the mail.
In my frenzy I almost shredded it but
It appeared to glisten and beckon so
I opened it to page one.
I could smell pine and cinnamon.
Or was it just fresh ink?
Brand new color coordinated Christmas ornaments
decorate the made-to-look-real tree
with twinkle lights twinkling
And votive candles glowing
there THEY were
all those beautiful slender young women
looking soft and dreamy with
perfect French tip manicures
freshly blown hair and make-up
all looking well rested and squeaky clean
dressed in pure winter white
pearl beaded cashmere sweaters
tiny diamond snowflake earrings
sparkling, sparkling
aglow by the roaring fireside
champagne flute in one hand
a small gift box in the other
wrapped in shiny gold paper
and tied with a black satin ribbon.
must be jewelry….maybe a nice watch.
I want to live this holiday fantasy.
I want a new bejeweled outfit to wear to the lovely dinner party.
I take a sip of my now cold morning coffee.
I realize it’s early November and
I’m back with the file boxes covered in dust.

What are you looking for?