“I am still trying to figure out what makes me
happy,” I explained.
“Oh. Come on. You have so many things to be
happy about,” she replied slowly. I believe she
thought that her careful pronunciation of each
word would make me actually believe it.
“Do you think we ever escape our bad
memories? Or do you believe they just continue
to haunt us like ghosts roaming the dark halls of
our mind, our entire life?” I asked. This time my
hands were both on the table and my feet were
completely still.
“What do you mean?” she asked as she reached
for the wine bottle sitting next to her left elbow.
“Mine seem to haunt me on occasion. It’s as if
I can’t get away from them. Sometimes they play
over and over again in my head like a broken
record getting stuck on one unbearable song. I
want so badly to unplug the player, but it feels like
the power chord is always just out of reach, so the
only way to get it to stop is to run,” I explained.
“Run where?” she asked.
“Anywhere,” I said with a hint of exasperation.
“Miranda, what are you running from?” she
questioned.
“Some days, I honestly can’t tell if I am running
away from these bad memories, or simply running
away from my own happiness.”
The lunacy surrounding this statement made
me feel completely uncomfortable, so I shifted
awkwardly in my chair the moment the words
came out of my mouth. I had never admitted this
to anyone before. Not even to myself.
Instead of immediately responding to my
confession, she sat there for a moment. I felt so
uncomfortable and exposed. I wanted to fill the
silence now surrounding us with something.
I wanted to crawl under the table. I wanted to
do anything except sit in that silence. However,
I decided to join her in this place of quiet for a
few moments.
“Miranda, you are in a new space. You have
a chance for a fresh start. Start here. Don’t run.
Make new memories in this new space. Start
today. Maybe, begin by deciding what you want
to put on your bookcase,” she finally replied as
she took another sip of her wine.
What is it with everyone and this bookcase?
---
The next morning, I sat up in bed and peered
through my open bedroom door. The empty
bookcase was in my line of sight. My head pounded.
The bottle of wine I consumed the night before was
surely the cause of my current hazy state. The sun
was so bright. It was pouring into all my windows.
My phone was ringing.
“Hello,” I said as I wiped away the last bit of
sleep still lingering in my eyes.
“I found the old globe that you bought at the
flea market a few years ago,” the voice stated on
the other line. It was my mom. She had a habit of
waking me up early on the weekends with random
calls, such as this.
“The one with the broken piece on the bottom?”
I questioned.
“Yes, it must have fallen out of one of the boxes
I brought over from your old apartment. I heard it
rolling around in the backseat when I was driving
to see your grandmother this morning. Did you
not notice it was missing?”
I hadn’t noticed it, but then again, I also hadn’t
finished unpacking the majority of the boxes from
my move, yet.
So many boxes to still unpack.
“I assumed it was still in one of the smaller
boxes I haven’t unpacked yet in my living room,”
I stated. At this point I had forced my way out of
the comfort of my bed and was standing over a
pile of boxes sitting close to the bookcase.
“Well, do you still want it?” she pressed.
I reached down into one of the boxes and slowly
pulled out a book. It was one I had found featuring
influential female photographers. A black and
white image of a woman floating in dark water
adorned its cover. Her face was the only thing that
appeared to be above the surface. The rest of her
body floated lifelessly below. The famous photo
was taken by a female photographer I had long
admired: Toni Frissell.
The image was so haunting, but yet beautiful
that I couldn’t help but smile.
“Of course I still want it,” I replied as I placed
the book in the corner of one of the case’s middle
shelves.
There, that looks perfect.
I took a moment to admire the book and how it
looked on the shelf. The sun illuminated the worn
edges of its cover and for a moment her pale skin
and white dress looked like it was glowing. There
she was, floating. Although almost completely
submerged, she was still breathing because her
head was still above water. She almost looked
heavenly.
“Ok, I can leave it out for the next time you
come home to visit. That way you won’t forget
it,” she replied.
“That sounds perfect, Mom,” I replied. I was
now reaching in the box for another book.
“Have you filled your bookcase yet?” she asked.
Normally all her questions would annoy me with
it being so early in the morning. However, today
felt different.
“No, Mom. I haven’t,” I replied with a slight smile
on my face and book in my hand. “ However, I
think today is the perfect day to start.”
76 EXTOL : SUMMER 2020