She sat in the middle of the room. Her cupboard was open. Its drawers were no longer in their original place. They sat next to her in the middle of the room. The cupboard was almost empty, what with all its content strewn across the room. All the clothes were piled up in the right corner of the room. They were not random piles. Each pile stood for something specific.
The 1st pile was her work clothes. The 2nd pile were her party clothes (the push-tush! parties) It was a small pile. The 3rd pile was again party clothes (the cool parties where jeans is allowed) The pile was taller than the last two piles. The last two piles had been messed up. Probably because they were the tallest and had collapsed under their own weight. She made no attempt to straighten them out.
Towards the left corner of the room were her photo albums. She grew up in the digital-less age. So yeah, she had a huge collection of hardcopies of her pictures. They were too many to count. She had spent a lot of time going through them. Some brought a smile to her face, some brought tears and some made her grimace (no one born in that generation seemed to have any fashion sense, did they!?) She was not occupied with these though at that moment.
The reason she sat there still and unmoving was a purple box. The purple colour was dark and deep. She found it in one of the drawers, hidden under her blue scarf. The blue scarf had elicited a loud scream of joy. She had been looking for it forever. She promised herself at that minute that she would get herself to “spring clean” every month. She spent an hour posing in front of the mirror with her blue scarf. A head band, a bandana, a belt…..and of course, wrapped it around her neck in various styles. When she returned to her sitting position in the middle of the room to check what other wonderful items the drawer held, she found the purple box.
After spending 10 minutes frozen from shock (because she had forgotten all about it for a while) she traced the silver lining on the box with her finger. 10 minutes were then spent contemplating whether she should open it. Her memory was not that bad. She knew what the purple box held. She remembered what it looked like. And she remembered how much she loved it. There was a reason why she had thrown it at the back of the drawer. As much as she liked it, it had started to suffocate her. The reason under which it had come into her possession had died. It no longer existed. It seemed like this…….obligation…… she was under. She had thought about returning it then. Not out of anger. Not out of spite. Just because there was no longer a reason for it. She doubted whether others would have understood her action. So she hadnt returned it. She had forgotten about it.
Deep breath and she flipped the box open. There it lay. Still as perfect. Still making her smile. She pulled it out. Contemplation overtook her again. She wondered about her next action. Should she? Shouldnt she? Walking to the mirror, she put it on. It still looked absolutely cool. Its a thing. An item. It doesnt breathe. It doesnt think. She realised it was in her power to attach to it whatever emotion, feeling, adjective she wanted. Otherwise, it was just a thing.
She walked back to her position in the middle of the room. She smiled and stared down at it.
Moving on to the next drawer, she realised the moral of the story.
Things are forever….relationships are not!