There were remnants of a life lived outside my door a few weeks ago. It’s not that uncommon since my studio dwelling inhabits a small but bustling town and across from a brewery, no less.
Cheap napkins and an occasional small plastic liquor bottle, like the ones purchased discreetly in convenience stores, are the norm.
I asked for it apparently.
The night before I left my own debris in a neatly labeled Free box with an accumulation of things not accepted at our local donation takers.
Half used printing labels, binders, some technology chords whose connection I’ve never met were the bulk of the matter.
(I’m still releasing confusing technology stuff Alan saved for a rainy day that never came his way, in this lifetime anyway.)
At the last minute I tossed in a barely used tube of hair gel thinking it might be just the need someone was looking for.
What the heck.
Standing there the next morning, taking in the reality of what unfolded during the night was an eye opener, even before my coffee.
Someone had spent time hanging out and exploring my box (my life) and then left, leaving their own discards (their life) behind.
Pink paper, a liner from an empty pastry box and an unopened protein snack box from Starbucks were there.
A hardback “Book of Life” and worn out mystery novel possibly lifted from another free box, along the way, too.
Or maybe they were gifts from a worrying Mom.
Connecting the dots, piecing together a story made my imagination ignite and yet, I’ll be the first one to admit I’m mostly wrong.
In the end, we were simply two human beings who never met and yet our discards left clues we can only surmise.
One human being was nocturnal (maybe not by choice) and the other was sleeping a widow’s sleep with one eye open on her closed door.
We both like pink paper and pastries and I’m crazy about Starbucks protein snack boxes.
But it’s been a very long time since I’ve read a mystery novel
as my life is mysterious enough these days without stirring things up.
We are both interested in the Book of Life, in some version or another.
And we want to look good.
In different circumstances we might consider ourselves friends.
Thanks for taking the Hair Gel off my hands, mystery human.
I hope it makes you even more beautiful.
With love for all of us,
Not measuring the perceived size of gifts you receive is critical.
What may seem a small gift in one moment, in reality could be one of your largest gifts.
Be grateful for everything.
And so we go…
enjoying the ride.