mine
She had broken my heart at the height of the summer, and she had given me three things: A piece of driftwood the shape of a boomerang, a small sketch she had made of some trees, and a long chain necklace with a small Chinese symbol for luck; these were an exchange of gifts after I had given her the necklace I was wearing (which, coincidentally, was a heart on a chain). She had broken my heart and made no attempt to fix it, and I had come to the edge of the water, at a somewhat hidden place, to let go of these things. The drawing was at home, and I was simply going to recycle it. The driftwood and chain I brought with me. But after tossing the driftwood in a place where it looked like it belonged, I started having second thoughts. What was I trying to prove, and to whom? That I had the strength to let something go? I already know I do- though it isn't easy.
I'm still at the hidden place, but I have changed my mind. I will put these things at the bottom of some box when I get home, and months or years from now I will find them again, and remember this time in my life. I will remember all the times in my life, whether fondly or bitterly.
If you punch me, the bruise is mine.
If you cut me, the scar is mine.
These things are mine.
~
2025