Day Two

I went back to work today after an almost two-week holiday break. I wasn’t overjoyed. However, I work at a college and because the students are still on break, I knew my day would at least be quiet. For the most part it was, so I had several hours of uninterrupted time to organize my office and create a to-do list for the start of the new semester. That’s the cool part of working on a school schedule. The semesters end and begin again; there’s always a fresh start at some point. That will probably be a topic to post about at some point, but not today. What struck me today was my office. What looks like clutter to most is a collection of moments to me.

I have a couple of bulletin boards in my office that are covered with pictures and mementos, mostly things given to me by others. I have thank you notes and holiday cards, pictures and gifts from students and colleagues alike.  On my desk I have a small collection of toys that usually invite conversation from visitors. I always know who the Dr. Who fans are because they are the only ones who recognize the 11th Doctor’s screwdriver sitting next to my computer. And on my computer I have some notes from my daughters who stop by to visit. Those are my favorite.

photo2What may seem like a lot of junk to some people is joy to me. I spend my days surrounded by memories of others and how they thought enough of me to leave little bits of themselves behind. And I can’t help but be grateful for that.

One thought on “Day Two

  1. I have three shoeboxes. Initially I had none before realizing the tokens I cherish felt lost among larger items of lesser consequence. So they found a home, a cardboard Reekbok Matryoshka doll if you will, where layers of my life expressed in physical trinkets nestled together in a crude lattice. 15 years of travels, both literal and spiritual, have necessitated spillover into two additional boxes with a fourth one not far behind. These seemingly insignificant items (old ticket stubs, plastic figurines, empty cologne bottles, and so on) are not merely reminders of past events in my life. They are totems to who I was, and where I was going, and why I was choosing to go that way. They are my tree rings. So I applaud your junk, and the pedestal in which you literally and figuratively display them to innocent and ignorant gawkers. Let them.

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