I was sitting in my closet when I read about New York signing the Marriage Equality Bill. This tickled me to no end. My story today is about what I was up to in that closet of mine…:

When I was 12 I dreamed of covering all my walls in a hodge podge of creations. Comics, words, pictures, pages of magazines, anything I found; my life, really, I wanted my life to coat the walls around me. To protect the paint on his walls my Father passed the edict that only items with a frame could be hung.

When my family moved to Kansas City  I was allocated a bed room with a large closet. I tucked myself in there. Pictures, cards, notes written during class, ticket stubs, everything and anything that held some piece of me got stuck to the walls in there. All of those mementos that you just aren’t sure what to do with; I stuck on the wall. And have been doing so for nigh upon 8 years now.

Earlier this week my mother commented on how nice it will be to turn my bedroom into a proper guest room once I leave. I am now adult enough to understand what she wanted but wasn’t saying. So, I found a book titled The Encyclopedia of Outer Space, published in 1964. I got a stick of glue and began relocating the ‘Encyclopedia of Bethany’s Inner Space’ from the walls, into a design which compliments the printed spread. Tucking that piece of my story even further away, but preserving it’s integrity as best I can.

While the mechanics of doing this were simple enough, it proved a task of great challenges. I teetered precariously on the precipice of memories. I peered, for a very long time, at a picture of a friend. She was 15 and held her infant son so awkwardly, trepidation showing in her thin smile. Trepidation and adoration. Her baby, Gavin, would be 10 now. I am still young enough that it smarts when I am put into context like that, both in terms of time and opportunity.

There were notes passed during high school; we were so amused with ourselves that it’s almost embarrassing. magazine articles which had helped encourage me. medals, race bibs, and old CDs. All telling my story, according to me.

It is funny, the things one is reticent to toss. I don’t consider myself a particularly materialistic sentimentalist. In fact, I’m a big fan of throwing things away. So, who knew that the bottom half of a gum ball dispenser, a coyote skull, and a segment of a fishing rod would prove impossible to part with?

One thought on “Space

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