Black Ink and Parchment

Somewhere in your mind there is a house that holds lost objects. Things you couldn’t carry forward, and couldn’t quite let die. They settle here in corners, in drawers, in the spaces between floorboards waiting to be remembered. We always come across the parts of ourselves when we least expect to and while you shouldn’t take them with you, there is nothing wrong with sitting with them for a while, so you can to relearn the lesson, you had forgotten.  

The Rocking Chair

It creaks back and forth, even when no one is there. The unfinished conversation you needed to have, but one of you left. Now the conversation lingers on an old porch, rocking gently waiting for completion. Unfinished conversations seem to haunt our houses and never rest until they are said aloud.

The Rusted Key

This key was meant to open a door, a future, a version of your life you once stood in front of, but you never turned the key. One of the hardest decisions of our lives is choosing not to take the chance. The key is still warm and full of possibilities that were never taken. Now the key will turn, but the door won’t open because whatever was behind there left a long time ago.

The Cracked Mirror  

It leans against a wall. You used to see your entire self in the mirror, but you outgrew who you were, but if you tilt your head just so, you might catch a fragment of who you used to be. An optimistic college student in one shard, a worn down parent in another, and a broken-hearted teen in the flecks of silver on the ground. Our old selves don’t completely disappear, we adjust, shrink and fracture so we can evolve into what we need to become.

The Burned-Out Candle

On an old, scarred table a single candle sits. Only a little pile of wax and the wick remains. It once filled the room with warmth. Now it’s cold. Lit too many times and now it will flicker itself out if someone tries to use it. Did you light this candle too many times? Using and using until it had nothing left to give? Or are you the candle and you stored your people pleasing here to protect what is left?

The Pressed Flower in an Old Book

A flattened memory between pages that haven’t been opened in years. You tried to preserve something delicate but time doesn’t stop. The flower’s color dulled and the petals thinned. Maybe we thought it was something worth keeping and time just reminded us that it is just a flower.

The Chipped Teacup

It is sitting next to an old coffeepot. You’ve had it for years and it is chipped, just enough to notice, but it holds warmth. There’s a quiet kind of beauty in surviving without pretending you’re untouched. Not everything needs to be perfect to still be comforting. Remember to love who you are, even with your flaws.

The Missing Puzzle Piece

In a junk drawer, you find a single puzzle piece, reminding you there is an empty space in something that was supposed to be whole. You understand what it was meant to become, but that empty space bothers you, but You’ve learned to live with the unfinished version. Some parts of ourselves are meant to remain incomplete, but it doesn’t stop us from living a full life.

The Packed Suitcase Under the Bed

The bag is zipped holding on to everything you thought you’d need to leave.  You had a plan you almost believed in. You were ready. Or at least, you thought you were. You might have stayed for the children, your parents, or yourself. But there was a moment when you were ready to give it all up. The bag is still packed to remind you of what you are capable of and what you deserve. You can go. The bag waits.

We store pieces of ourselves like we’ll come back for them later. But we rarely do. Still, the house keeps every version of you that didn’t make it forward and every memory that you need to let go of to survive.

Because even the things we leave behind shape the way we move forward.