Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Writers Island: The Key

After a few phone calls, an interview, and a lot of paper work, I (finally) have a job. Now I can get my head back on straight and return to my writing. Ahhh...

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There's a key sitting in the middle console of my car. It's lost amid a collection of old gum wrappers, a cheap but pretty brooch, and the sticky remnants of the soda I spilled two weeks ago. But I know it's there.

In truth, I shouldn't even have the key. It should have been returned to a careless landlord several years ago. But nobody ever asked me for it after we moved out of the house; so I kept it.
I've thought about throwing it away several times. As I clean out my car I toss receipts, bottle caps, and dried up pens into a trash bag. I always come across the key sooner or later. I turn it over and over in my hand, run my finger along its ridges and curves. I tell myself that it's silly to hold on to something that has no purpose. But I can never quite manage to let go of that little gold key.

It's not a unique in any way. Just your average key; it could belong to one of a million front doors. Behind the door it does belong to is a quaint little house in sleepy Kirksville. There are three bedrooms. We slept in the middle one, flanked by our friends on either side. I remember the kitchen was quite large. Large enough to fit an oversized recliner that just wouldn't fit anywhere else. But what I liked best was the living room.

No, there was nothing spectacular about that room. A couple couches, a TV, a computer. But we were an unlikely mash of friends, and we created a psuedo-family in that living room. We shared pizza and laughter there. We watched endless hours of Sex and the City. We talked about our hopes, our fears, and our shortcomings. We created a home away from home for each other.

I guess that's why I keep that key. Because that was my first summer in Kirksville, and part of me thinks that if I throw away that key, I might forget. I might forget about making dinner together, cuddling on the Fourth of July, learning to live paycheck to paycheck, a sofa on the front porch, birthday celebrations, and all the lessons I took away from a couple months spent in a crowded house.

So I'll clean up the soda, and I'll toss out the gum wrappers and maybe even the brooch. But I think I'll keep the key just a bit longer.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

That key holds too many memories to be thrown or given away.

Interesting read :-)

Jo said...

I always keep sentimental stuff. I really enjoyed this piece.

paris parfait said...

Lovely sentiments brought to mind by the simple key.

Anonymous said...

I'm a memory keeper too. I needs solid remembrance that I can hold in my hands. Good piece.