An Ode to Things I Hold On To

Fortune cookie fortunes in my wallet, promising something different, more hopeful

Half-filled notebooks of poems, short stories, random thoughts, and doodles

Books stacked in corners, worn and well-read, dog-eared, fingerprints on random pages

Gum wrappers at the bottom of my bag, with cities I want to visit written on them

Tarot cards spilled out on the floor from the box, some folded or bent

Hotel room keys in my wallet, taking up room for no reason other than to show I was somewhere else

An empty sachet of seeds opened with a list of random dates written on the inside

Broken earbuds and phone chargers all tangled together, unused for years

Faded pictures, all bent corners and frozen memories from the past

Postcards in a box, a map of places I have been, some mailed to me with scribbled “Wish you were here”

Posters on my wall, taped at the corners, the edges ragged and ripped

Sand in a bottle from a distant beach, filled with memories between the grains

Friendship bracelets, frayed and broken, faded colors collected on top of my dresser

Change filled in my cup holder, copper pennies and silver quarters, dollar bills folded over

Candles lining my bedside table, barely used, burnt wicks, waiting to be used again

Crystals littering empty spaces and corners, ready to decorate, glittering in the sodium glare of my overhead light

Vision boards covered in my dreams, things I want for myself in the future

Random keys I have no use for, brass and silver, tarnished and covered in rust

Broken bits of ocean glass and seashells, pale green, pinks, and white, from a restless ocean

Moss covered branches in a terrarium littered with dirt and dead leaves

Old diaries from different chapters of my life, stacked away in my bookshelf

Pine cones, dried out from sitting in the sunshine, lining a shelf, nature brought inside

Old band t-shirts, spotted by bleach, holes at the seams, tattered by love

Brine and Rosemary

I wake up to brine and rosemary in my throat

And I remember the honey taste of figs, the syrupy sweetness of an overripe, heavy fig; salty-sweet taste of a mussel in a white wine sauce; warm, flaky, buttery pastries with melted chocolate centers; bittersweet coffee ice cream in a waffle cone, with a chocolate crusted coffee bean on top.

And I remember the silvery smell of lavender, hidden beneath the brine of the sea; sun-warmed, dusty tomatoes and sweet peaches; the dusty dirt road stretching seemingly endless; bitter coffee steaming in a mug; melted butter popping on the stove top, garlic and bay leaves wilting in it.

And I remember the waves crashing against the beach; the loud voices and hustle of the open air markets; the loud, boisterous conversations over cups of coffee; cicadas whirring into the evenings; warm breezes whispering through the tree leaves; gravel crunching under wandering feet.

And I remember the sea cradling me in her cool embrace; the salt crusting in my hair, even after being washed; the sun warming my shoulders as it darkens my skin; warm sand between my toes; the peace of being between sea and mountains, the two places on earth I love the most. 

I wake up with brine and rosemary in my throat

And I remember the best place in the world; the memories drifting slow through my mind, soft and faded; the shapes and colors sharpening and brightening from a fog; scents and tastes accosting my senses with a vengeance; blunted shapes of mountains floating in a blank space; the crash of waves roaring in my ears… 

And the yearning to return burns in my veins, like flames coursing through my body, the ocean pulling at my heartstrings, an ache in my bones that will only be eased upon return.