Possessions are Possessive

"I used to own a pair of them. I loved them. They were the sandy colored leather with a really thick, clear sole. They made me feel punk rock and comfy all at the same time."

I was dreaming again, in a mall I have been in hundreds of times. As I looked up at the Dr. Martin's Airwalk Collections lining the walls of a local shoe store, I had a smile on my face and a stupid longing. I started to miss my shoes. Shoes. Dumb, old, stinky shoes.

"Well... why did you get rid of them?"

"I lost them in the separation."

Shoes or offspring?

I lost so much stuff when I left The Ex, both during the first Exodus and the Second Fleeing. And then there were things he took from me. Thoughts he invaded, moments he muddled, feelings he confiscated.

Here's a small list of things I misplaced, he stole, or I gave up:

My Dr. Martin's
A Ring and two Necklace from Ex Boyfriends (Mr. Future Millionaire, Mr. Hamster and My Gay Ex Boyfriend, Respectively)
All of my personal journal entries circa 2001-2005. The only thing that remains is this blog and a few poems/ prose I wrote about Mr. Hamster
Tons of clothes
A good majority of my wedding presents- though few they were
My Lennox Hummingbird ( of course, the more beautiful one)
Most pictures of me and my Exes
Money. Lots of money. All the money I earned from January 2007- July 2007 and then some
My Jason Mraz Live CD
My Josh Turner CD
The Chevy. God, I loved that car. I know it wasn't working, but who knows, maybe Scott could fix it
My smiles and dreams from May 2006- July 2007
Time


I live everyday without these things. It's not like I can't function. It's also not like I would ever read my old journals, or wear the old jewelry, or listen to the cd's. It is the point. The point that we have items that carry meanings. That jewelry never belonged to him. It was a gift from someone who loved me for a girl I once was who pleased them. If I didn't own it, it should go to whomever gave it to me. It was ours and a symbol of us.

The cd's had songs that evoked feelings. I listened to that Jason Mraz cd tirelessly for about a year and lived through it. It was playing in the background when Mr. Future Millionaire broke my heart and told me about his feelings for someone other than me. I belted out You and I BOth and Doubling Back till I couldn't cry any more. I owned those notes, I knew those chords, I had that beat in my heart.

I drove back and forth to Pittsburgh in that Chevy. I wore a hole under the gas pedal with my heels. I was kissed in that passengers seat. I put that air freshner in the glove box. I kept those keys hidden in my jeans. That is, until he found and stole those, too. Another story. Another sad song.

I know. They are not me. I am not defined by what I possess, but by that which possesses me. I am defined by wonder and enlightenment. I am still essentially me, with or without props.