To The Left

Beyonce sang to me as I drove home tonight. Her anthem of woman-power speaks of putting possessions in a box in the closet, of letting a man know he's replaceable.

I could start by putting things in a box in the closet. I could start tonight, simply putting things away.

The key.

The jewelry.
I always wear certain earrings with the bracelets, so I'll need to put the earrings in the box, also. And I started wearing the necklace my dad gave my mom. It just felt right. Now it doesn't. I feel sad when I wear it. So I'll put it in the box, too.

The jewelry box. It came from Russia. He told me he would tell me the story behind the painting on the front. He never got the chance. I'll put it in the box. And the Russian nesting dolls. My Russian things just remind me of how he talked of Russia. So I'll put the Russian egg my friend painted for me in the box too...for now. And the cognac he gave me.

The books I read while he was in Europe. I don't want to read them again.

The dress I wore on our first date. The pictures of his children. The crayon drawing his daughter made for me. The books I'm writing inspired by his kids. The paints I bought to illustrate the books. The paintings I've started. My brushes.

The gifts I bought for the kids while I was on vacation. The T-shirt they bought for me while they were on theirs.

My Dynamo shirt, my Astros shirt, my ball cap. My ticket stubs from the games. My theatre program.

My memories.

My memories.

My memories.

I don't have a container large enough to store what I want to lock away. I want to place my heart in the box, in the closet, to the left. I want to close the door and not look back, but I can't. Once I start putting things away, I fear I won't stop. I am leaving the key on the counter. I can bear to look at it once in awhile. It will sting, but I can bear this. It is certainly better than the alternative.