Cedar Box (Blogophilia 4.12)



Funny how a day changes.
The clutter had gotten to me again and I began to gather stuff for charity and the trash. The usual old clothes and kitchen stuff that sounded like such a good idea at the time.
I came across it...again. Like I do every year.
It isn’t pretty, a store bought relic from a relationship that wasn’t even mine. I pick it up to put it in the collection box. But it doesn’t happen. It never happens. Instead, the annual Lenten litany gets performed. I put on an old song and place the box on the table.
We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when
Pledge and a soft cloth peel down the layers of dust, bringing out filigree in the brackets. Faded memories tarnished by time, worn by care. Lemon scent burns in my nostrils as my hand glide along the prominent grain of the wood. Holding it in my hand, I anticipate the pain, so cleansing to my soul. The ashes from so long ago forming the cross against my heart.
But I'm sure we'll meet again some sunny day,
I can’t help myself. Like an addict, I have to have the fix.
Keep smiling through, just the way you used to do,
Secret old letters written from a time before me, by the mutual acquaintance who introduced us. Opening the small latch in the front, the faint hint of cedar still resides inside. Small yellow envelopes giving the addresses they had lived at over time. Their contents detailing arguments and assignations...love and violence. With none of it concerning me. And why should it? It wasn’t until the last two I was even known to either of them. And even then, I don’t rate mentioning.
Keep smiling through, just the way you used to do.
One by one, I go through them. I’ve read them so many times before. The language is light, flowery, and explicit. I can smell the partner. I see the checkered dress as a mirror image to her solid one. A whiskey tinged voice speaks the words in my heart. I imagine fabric lifting and floating in their struggles to be one. Always coming close, but never achieving. The last was an ultimatum never agreed to, dated the week before she moved in with me.
Till the blue skies chase the dark clouds far away.
I never asked why she had kept it, or why she never had taken it with her. I’d like to think it wasn’t my punishment for making her stray. It was just a part of a past, and she never looked backward. Just like she never looked back toward me as she returned.
I put the letters back and slip the silver padlock back in place. It is time. I open my contact list and find the name. Hopefully, they haven’t moved. It has been a while since I’ve driven by the place. But there is a mailbox and the letters will be delivered home.

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Topic (Secret old letters)-Lika Saliscente-Phipps
Pic-Rutger Siskens
Pic guesses- Partner (in blog), checkered (in blog), dresses (in blog), blue note, kisses, dance, mirror image (in blog).

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