metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Keys I wrote an entry and then lost it. Crap. Oh, well. I cleaned out another drawer last weekend. I found a key. I have no idea what this key goes to, what lock, where. But I kept it. Why? What key is it? Maybe it is the key to my mother's door, so I could come and visit anytime. She died in 1988, but still I keep the key. As though I could ever use it again. Maybe it is part of the final goodbye. I dunno. I believe I shall throw it away. Any door that leads to my mother now, exists in my heart and I can open it anytime I like, when I get up the courage. So, the key is gone. I am truly being ruthless. I threw away about 15 nail polishes. Ancient colors, probably used for cave painting, now gone to the landfill. Good riddance. Why do I hold on to other keys? I have lots, stashed everywhere. Do I think I am the only one with a key that will unlock - what? Hell, the locks are probably long gone, the metal deteriorating and rusting and polluting the earth with it's toxic rust. And I have the key! Hahahhahahahaha! In my cleanout program I will steel myself and throw away any keys I have which I have no idea what they open. That is an awkward sentence. But, it gets the idea across. That said, I should end up with about 4 or 5 keys in my possession. How nice. How manageable. No more will I be the keeper of the keys, the one with the key to mythical locks securing nothing. I am free. 11:55 a.m. - 2004-01-15 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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