breath eyes memory

Things I’ve Found in My Parents’ House, a selected list:

a jar of $9 vanilla extract, unopened

a hand turkey dated 1989

a fur coat

the remote to a TV we don’t have anymore

one exercise ball, deflated

three cake stands

a hat box that my cat had thrown up in

a year’s worth of Oprah magazines

the slip one of my grandmothers, I don’t know which one, wore under her wedding dress

“Surviving Separation and Divorce: A Handbook”

a giant wasp (Tom killed it with a Michael Kors sandal and I said, when I write my memoir…)

a large collection of Hanson fanfiction, three hole punched and stored in a binder

sandalwood incense

enough empty wine bottles to make me feel sad

a shit ton of Swiffer dusters

my “Seniors 2003: Pink Ladies” t-shirt

one stained glass window

We’re getting stuff for the apartment, before this place sells. It is one part grave-robbing and one part unearthing of an ancient civilization. It feels like a haunted house. I opened all the windows and turned the music up as loud as it would go.