Cleaning House...
I don't often clean my room. I'm not really doing it now. I'm just 'straightening up'.
But as I move notebooks and paystubs around I stumble across little bits of the past. I remember moving these little bits around before... for decades.
polaroids of lame product shots from my QVC days... Ukulele strings... keys to old apartments, motorcycles and laundry rooms... guitar strings...
a portable minidisc player that has seen little to no use... bass strings... my backup herb grinder...
One of the notebooks I've owned since high school needs a new storage spot. As I pick it up and thumb through the memories I stumble across a message I've never seen before.
"I'm Samantha Bender and I'm hanging out with Rand and wearing new socks! Stop looking at me, Swan!"
It looks like a girl from my past has written a little clandestine note for me in notebook she knew I'd never throw away. In pink pen, no less! Complete with whimsical doodles of cheerful nonsense.
How cute.
Samantha wasn't ever that close to me, we only really knew each other for a summer. It didn't end badly, it just of became less of a priority for each of us to until we lost touch. I'd love to call her and laugh about the little note I found.
Too bad she died of a heroin overdose.
People can really change when the fall out of your life. Sam didn't drink, smoke or snort a damn thing when I knew her. She did, however, make plenty of bad decisions. I guess hanging in crack house in Camden was a pretty bad decision.
Oh well.
Thanks for writing about your socks in my book, Sam!
I don't often clean my room. I'm not really doing it now. I'm just 'straightening up'.
But as I move notebooks and paystubs around I stumble across little bits of the past. I remember moving these little bits around before... for decades.
polaroids of lame product shots from my QVC days... Ukulele strings... keys to old apartments, motorcycles and laundry rooms... guitar strings...
a portable minidisc player that has seen little to no use... bass strings... my backup herb grinder...
One of the notebooks I've owned since high school needs a new storage spot. As I pick it up and thumb through the memories I stumble across a message I've never seen before.
"I'm Samantha Bender and I'm hanging out with Rand and wearing new socks! Stop looking at me, Swan!"
It looks like a girl from my past has written a little clandestine note for me in notebook she knew I'd never throw away. In pink pen, no less! Complete with whimsical doodles of cheerful nonsense.
How cute.
Samantha wasn't ever that close to me, we only really knew each other for a summer. It didn't end badly, it just of became less of a priority for each of us to until we lost touch. I'd love to call her and laugh about the little note I found.
Too bad she died of a heroin overdose.
People can really change when the fall out of your life. Sam didn't drink, smoke or snort a damn thing when I knew her. She did, however, make plenty of bad decisions. I guess hanging in crack house in Camden was a pretty bad decision.
Oh well.
Thanks for writing about your socks in my book, Sam!
churtch:
I too have days like this, filled with memories. Though you may have not been all that close it is terribly sad what happened to your friend, but it is good that you have something to remind you of her.