She keeps because she forgets.
The things are the memories:
each note a conversation,
each object a piece of time.
She used to say it was for her son -
and his children-
but it’s not.
He doesn’t need her memories.
She keeps the pieces because
otherwise those slices of existence
disappear
as though they never happened.
And someday that might matter.
Someday the pieces might fit
and finally make sense.
Awww… That’s sweet Dayna. You kept something really important for me, a picture you showed me last weekend reading like millions of words I never got to say.