Things:
A little dog with black and white snoopy spots who misses me when I’m gone and sleeps curled up in the small of my back.

This pen.

A water bottle, bigger than most with a blue plastic label that says Seltzer! in white letters, even though it’s been ages since anyone had seltzer around here. I refill it from the tap every morning and try to drink its contents at least twice over before the afternoon.

Things: the present

A t-shirt, once white, now yellowed and shredded around the edges – with holes in the pits and cursive writing, flaked with age, peeling off the back.

The scratchy dry skin on the heels of my feet. Very un-ladylike. Very unsexy. When I catch one heel on the soft skin of my leg I think, tomorrow I’ll fix that and then,
“Your feet are cold.”
“They always are.”
“Soft though.”
(Sarcastic scoff) “Hardly…wait, you’re kidding, right?”
“No, I can feel the moisturizer, I can feel it...let me see this, let me see.”

And the bed turned upside down in search of soft feet. Turned into a pile of sheets and lips and laughter

Things: The past

Rows of colored ribbons. Red yellow and gold. Hanging reminders of goals set and reached. Recollections of roses earned. And the forging of new hopes.

Things: The future.