I swear, the universe is trying to tell me I have too many earrings.
I'd lost one, quite recently, a pair I'd gotten on a Disney cruise to Alaska. I'd gone with my friends A and S (who I'm sure I've mentioned quite frequently at this point). I'm afraid I do not have a blog post on the experience.
Um. Other than "I was lazy," I don't think I have an excuse. Sorry.
Anyway, those earrings were rather small, compared to my usual standard. But it meant I didn't need to wear any sort of cool outfit to pull off those earrings. And somehow, according to my mom, those were the earrings that made me look cutest. Somehow, she'd always give me random hugs on the days I wore them, and then I'd be all "what was that about" and then she'd be all "I just wanted to" and then we'd be all "oh right I'm wearing the whale tails, aren't I." Every such instance made the earrings more special.
And there is something quite special about whales, just seeing the connection that a mother whale will have to her child. I don't doubt that my mom thinks about that connection when seeing me wear the earrings.
We'd gotten home from a walk when my mom realized that one of my earrings had fallen off. This isn't the first time this had happened, but I do not think I have another pair imbued with the same sentimental value as these. We'd gone walking at 8:15 and had come back around 9. And still, my mom went back with me on the whole walk again to look for it. We took flashlights and everything.
And we did find it. Well, my mom did. It was toward the end of the walk (we couldn't help but regret not retracing our steps backward), just on the ground. The relief at finding it was indescribable.
Well, I tried to describe the experience. Hence, my poem:
The Whale Tails
Every whale tail is different,
like a name, like a
keeper of memories,
but something less in the past.
Mommy, you said I looked best
in these earrings; you loved me
more in these earrings, at least
that’s what you said.
A face is not its past; a past
cannot be manufactured.
There is only one me.
There are only two earrings.
Mommy, remember? You’d say
you love me, add unprompted
words to actions, and it would
always be the earrings.
I have to retrace my steps
before the path to the present
fades, before day breaks
and yesterday sleeps.
Mommy, but they have to be
together; it’s always harder to be
the one left behind, still
looking, with hope left to lose.
They’re worthless to everyone
but me. They will always belong
to me. I can’t lose them
if they’re not worthless.
Mommy, you came with me; your
actions gave me the words back. And
I do know you always love me,
by the way. But like. Earrings.
The trip to Alaska happened,
but it’s like I’m still there.
I put the earrings in my ears.
The memories become part of me.
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