A day has passed since the loss of my Samsung tablet and the composition notebook filled my novel-in-progress. I discovered today that I had put the case with my precious things on top of the car I was a passenger in and forgot about them as we drove away.
Two things have preoccupied me all day – struggling not to berate myself but failing and imagining the newly liberated lives of my former belongings.
They were glad the darkness lifted.
They scrambled toward the blessed light,
up and over the sand and gravel
spilling through the ripped wall into the soft
cage where they’d been held.
Fresh air, finally! The rush of cars.
Shouts from unknown sources. Then silence.
Leggy weeds and grass loomed high above
their tops. The road, far enough away
it could be the moon, lay out of sight.
At least, they were whole and together.
Nothing broken, thank God! His screen only
scratched, sleek cover flap now disjointed.
But he was weakening. His charge
draining faster, she knew, from their fall.
And she? She was a bit worse for wear.
Her classic black-and-white cover askew,
inner pages no longer pristine. She moved
nearer to him, her pages ruffling in a sudden
downdraft. They lay close, covers intertwined.
Resting, they turned to the sun. He hummed
to her, her pages brushed his screen. She didn’t know
what they would do if it rained. For now, though, it was dry.
Someone will come, they whispered one to the other.
They were whole, at least, and together.