1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
The collection was passed down and around, carrying all the weight, hope, and intention of the ones that came before: the inherited secrets from a lifetime of collectively caring and worrying and wishing. The only way to carry it with her was to break it down into hundreds of pieces, so she carried bits in her pockets and in drawers; displayed them on shelves or behind cabinets; buried some in walls; stitched others into curtains and quilts; planted them in her garden; hid them under her bed; and buried a few deep in jars and boxes.
Cut hair, cut nails, cut flowers, found seeds, empty pill packs, broken plates, poison pocket, recipe books, drier lint, dead poppy, crushed herbs, crushed flowers, crossed fingers, dead bees, torn t-shirt, bloodied cloth, small scissors, broken necklace, lemon seeds, lemon leaves, yellow wallpaper, missing keys, lit match, locked lock;
She continued to carry the pieces, not knowing who would next receive the collection. Her daughters? Their daughters? How large the collection would grow as intentions and expectations overwhelm a future, already so full.