Exhibitive
Sometimes when things are quiet, I find myself slinking through my museum. I linger at the entryways to old exhibits, scanning for a feeling before passing to the next. Some are shuttered, the relics within them hold memories too painful to revisit. Others are full of joy and I stay a bit longer, cherishing those moments. Light in the dark. Most of the exhibits have titles, names - Ships, Dalliance, Salt, Böol. References for things which feel like a lifetime ago, a different me.
I haven’t sorted one for yours yet.
Too often, and for far too long, I found myself sitting in your exhibit. I would place myself in the center and study the timeline, occasionally drifting to various artifacts. Some trigger a familiar smell or sound. The relics I most gravitate towards immerse me in vivid memories, where the feelings in those moments are alive again. Like it felt meeting your gaze tonight for the first time in months.
They’re not always good feelings, but the bad feels equally important. To remember the dark with the light. To learn from the cycles we threw ourselves into. Bittersweet memories are the most complicated for me; the stone from Rumbling Bald, submerging me in the deep love I felt and the fear I let creep in that evening. The fear that flowed from you and into us. I’ve replayed that memory more times than I can count: the laughter in the hotel the night prior, the kiss in the store, your elation at the top, you telling me I was beautiful over dinner, the quiet on the late night drive home.
It’s one of my most cherished memories, fear and all.
I’ve found myself stalling in your exhibit less these days. Most often I’ll briefly pass through, following a scent or a sound - something to close a loop I’ve been processing. Some displays remain empty, a dusty placard reading ”Coming Soon” sat in the dark. I’ve stopped wondering if they’ll ever be filled, but it does leave things feeling a bit unfinished.
Apt for the context, I suppose.