Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 8, 2024
Get out. Out of your house, out of your head, out of the doom scroll, out of your way. Get out and go get it.
Running Through Your Past
I wound through parts of Flossmoor I didn’t even know existed, despite growing up there. Oh! That’s where Flossmoor Hills Elementary is. I just never had any reason to journey to that part of town. In the familiar parts, I found myself thinking about my childhood. Acknowledging all the landmarks with memories. That’s where I ditched school that one time and smoked cigarettes when I should have been in math class. This is where my high school friends and I would meet before school to smoke cigarettes. There’s where there used to be a church where I once tried to woo a girl by playing her punk songs as we sat in her car—it didn’t work—and would sometimes smoke cigarettes. I wasn’t a teenage smoker, but, apparently, when I did smoke, I did it all over town.
The Forgotten Woman in the Gold, Oval Frame
The woman stood in a gold, oval frame. The frame hung above the small desk in my grandparents’ bedroom for at least since I was born. This was the desk where my grandmother, Nonny, wrote notes and cards and checks. The desk where she kept things like pens and stationary and correspondence and a few important documents.
The Haunting Regret Can Become Gratitude
For years after AMDA, I struggled to accept my decision. I had turned my back on a city that I loved, people that I had formed a beautiful bond with, and a dream I had nurtured throughout my childhood. Surrounded by the Midwest and all that entails, I saw beauty in nothing, and no matter what I took into my body I never felt fulfilled.
That dark room is yours, and yours alone.
Its shadows are by your design.
The monster under your bed is just the fears you haven’t felt yet.
Don’t worry about them now.
They’ll find you soon enough.