In Which I Mention A Bit Of Jewelry
I have this locket, right?
I bought it in late September of this past year. It's two inches by one, ornate and heavy. Scrolled designs. All goldtone. When I bought it, I wanted to put a picture of me and Grant in it. I forgot about it after I put it in my jewelry box. I had other things to pay attention to.
A week after Grant and I broke up, I found it again.
I wrote the lyrics to "Goodnight, My Someone" from The Music Man on a scrap of notebook paper, folded it, tied a bit of black ribbon around it, and placed it inside the locket.
Now, my friends know I'm not one for pictures in lockets. I leave them empty because I have nothing I need to remember at this point in my life that I cannot without their assistance. This, though, is something I need help with:
Hope.
That's what the locket is, really. Hope. It's hope that, eventually, something will work out and, eventually, there will be something worth putting in the locket. I wear it when I feel myself forgetting. It's a stupid, personal symbol, but it's there nonetheless, heavy and solid.
At the moment, it's making its presence known on my desk, making me feel serene. I sort of want to say goodnight to "my someone" on the evening star. Never mind that there isn't anyone at the other end of that star, saying goodnight to me. I want to say it nonetheless.
I hope I go right on feeling like this.
I bought it in late September of this past year. It's two inches by one, ornate and heavy. Scrolled designs. All goldtone. When I bought it, I wanted to put a picture of me and Grant in it. I forgot about it after I put it in my jewelry box. I had other things to pay attention to.
A week after Grant and I broke up, I found it again.
I wrote the lyrics to "Goodnight, My Someone" from The Music Man on a scrap of notebook paper, folded it, tied a bit of black ribbon around it, and placed it inside the locket.
Now, my friends know I'm not one for pictures in lockets. I leave them empty because I have nothing I need to remember at this point in my life that I cannot without their assistance. This, though, is something I need help with:
Hope.
That's what the locket is, really. Hope. It's hope that, eventually, something will work out and, eventually, there will be something worth putting in the locket. I wear it when I feel myself forgetting. It's a stupid, personal symbol, but it's there nonetheless, heavy and solid.
At the moment, it's making its presence known on my desk, making me feel serene. I sort of want to say goodnight to "my someone" on the evening star. Never mind that there isn't anyone at the other end of that star, saying goodnight to me. I want to say it nonetheless.
I hope I go right on feeling like this.