“Why was I holding on to something that would never be mine? But isn't that what people do?”
As the door opened, a quick crash, smash and jump backwards happened. I had forgotten that last night, the Iron had fallen sideways, knocking over some glass jars in the opposite side of the press (under-the-sink cupboard where everything goes). The said jar, that this morning, passed to jar heaven, was given as a gift, holding Italian Hot Chocolate made with real chocolate from the cake shop, where the giver, worked. I drank the chocolate and kept the jar. Like almost everything that comes from Italy, this too, was so damn pretty.
Now its sits in the recycling bin, wrapped in newspaper.
Was I holding onto the jar? ….or the person who gave the jar? Or was just holding onto the memory. I’m not a hoarder but I have kept obscure items with no rationality. Why keep them? There are photographs of benches, bus tickets from decades ago, and dried flowers. It’s like a network of memories, which keep the person.
I thought this was an interesting take :