de l'encre au bout des doigts

Whether it's at work or at home, we all have survival and logistical systems. In the work place, my desk is spotless and my archives almost too good to be true. At home on the other hand,  I tend to be a keeper while Mr is a thrower. 

The balance could be reversed, I'm sure. I'm sure it would be, I usually close doors, open new windows and walk on forwards. That's how I survive. 

Yes. If only Mr hadn't thrown away most of my medical records the 3rd time we moved. I was pregnant then, I trusted him to remember that whatever was in the living-room was to be kept while the stuff in front of the door had to go.

But then, I don't speak Men.

I was too tired and heavy to get my hands dirty, and in the morning it was too late. Gone. Thus, a dynamic was set between us. I, prefering to keep paperwork, just in case, and he, storming through rooms with compostable bags. 

I usually manage to save bills and stuff the IRS might be interested in. I couldn't save our new coffee machine's warrante, which was, alas, unfortunate.

It's an interesting (un)balance. We probably have as much mess and order as most. 

The choices we make. What to throw, what to keep.

I moved 11 times, and went to 14 schools between Kindergarden and my final College graduation. My record is 3 years in the same school, and 8 years in the same flat. Yet, I find myself more grounded than most. I make friends easily and I know how to keep the important ones in the long term ; I fit in and function properly very fast in a new workplace.

That's because I lied. Of course, I do close some doors, don't we all. How to stay sane otherwise. But, unlike most, unlike Mr, I've always had a special place and people who rooted me in my progression through life. My close family, Brittany (boy, if stones could talk…), friends. What am I saying? My Kindreds, my Kins. 

Not to say Mr isn't grounded. He's anchored in different ways. If I can't read the manual, I do know it's there. 

Again, I only speak Women. 

That's how we survive. We all have our manual, our codes, our languages.

Throughout the changes, the moves, getting married and having kids. Through the years building walls, some destroyed and other built higher. Through drawing lines of sand and salt around ourselves, some we cross, some we push backwards, while others we stare at from afar. Aware of their burning presence outside our eyes. 

Our life is a maze. Only we have the manual, and only we can read it (as we wrote it, actually…).

This is not what I meant to write. I was hopping around on my valid foot, putting stuff away and making room on our shelves, when I found a treasure. A folder. Very simple. Very well kept and organized. Filled with happy gosts and paper and ink.

And so so many words. Words written to me by people, most of whom I remember, and one or two I didn't. Mr would have thrown it away. It was in the past, it's not important. What's important is now, today and tomorrow. Anytime spent on this piece of sentimental junk is a waste.

But I'm glad I kept the words in the folder. I'm glad I can turn back and see the forest of faeries waving. It's so big and goes on for so many years… I must have been worth the words. Despite some of the letters, some of the tears wrinkling the paper, some mine and some not, this folder doesn't hold me back. It's mostly filled with joy and hope and idiotic innocence and ignorance. It's beautiful.

It's a strength I can draw on for better choices. The words, the paper, the ink, can guide my feet and light my path, and I can go forwards, free and strong. 

Remember this when you make space. It's important to get rid of memories that will hold you back. But don't ever hesitate to keep the one that will give you wings, whether they are happy or not.