Blame it on Christmas shopping. Seriously. While looking for perfect (yet inexpensive) gifts for everyone else, I stumbled across a book in TJMaxx. Who knew they had books?
642 Things to Write About by The San Francisco Writers' Grotto. 3.99 (regular price $6.00). It's been sitting in my living room for just over a month now. Finally cracking it open, I was inspired to write. And then I remembered by poor, neglected blog. It seemed like a good place to put whatever comes out of my brain.
So I have comandeered my own blog. I may still write about books I have read (I still read A LOT!), but I will definitely try to write something unrelated to what I have read several times a week. Let me know if anything you read here strikes your fancy. Or makes you feel the urge to upchuck. Put please, don't throw tomatoes.
Today's prompt: Things you should throw away, but can't
Tina hated spring cleaning. Wiping down walls, windows, and sills. Emptying out closets only to repack them. Pulling heavy furniture away from walls, revealing the detritus of a year in the dark. Throwing windows open wide, hoping to let in a fresh start.
This year, she had the added knowledge of what waited in the Keds shoe box tucked into her bottom dresser drawer. It was time to throw it away.
Tina saved the dresser for last. She tried on every article of clothing in her closet, tossing things that fit 10 pounds ago. She scrubbed the inside of the refrigerater, oven, and microwave. Even getting down on her knees to scrub the crevice where the floor meets the wall behind the toilet was done. Eventually, the only spot in her house that had not been cleansed and refreshed was the bottom dresser drawer.
Tina pulled on her yellow latex gloves before she stepped into her closet. Her eyes met her gaze in the mirror. She looked deep to find the strength to open the box and took a deep breath. Sinking to her knees in front of the dresser, Tina let out the breath. Her hands were shaking as she reached forward to pull open the drawer.
The only inhabitants of the drawer were the box and what it held. Tina stared for a long moment before she could bring herself to lift the box up and out onto her lap. There she held the box for what seemed like eternity, gently rocking it.
"One last look to say goodbye," Tina said, nestling her yellow-clad fingers under one edge of the lid. Slowly she raised the lid.
"Oh, no," Tina whispered as a single tear slid down her cheek. The box was empty.
The gentle rustling behind her told her she had waited to long to throw it away.