Slice of Life 1

Walking into someone’s home for the first time, I don’t notice the usual eye catchers: the dreamy paintings, feathered sofas, infinite flat screens. My gaze darts to the obscure. Today, I see a dusted snow globe sitting behind a framed family photo, an orphaned Lego winking behind a curtain, piled newspapers waiting to be read. I think artifacts, and I want their stories. The snow globe. Who first shook the liquid memory, watching the flakes float down on summer’s vacation? The Lego. Was it lost, or did someone deliberately leave the hairless soldier in frozen incompleteness? The newspapers. Will they ever receive the well-deserved attention, or will they be inspired kindling for a reluctant fire? These questions distract me, inciting narratives and histories to curl around my thoughts. Today, on a routine stretch of highway, I notice a small encampment beneath a highway overpass. Two tents, a well-swept dusty circle, sinking-seated folding lawn chairs. I think artifacts. I want their stories, and because I can’t really know them, I create my own, gratefully giving significance to these overlooked, discarded relics.

3 responses to “Slice of Life 1

  1. Noticing those small moments is a gift. Too often people overlook small things in their rush to get from place to place or in their fascination with the devices in their hands. This month of slicing always reminds me to look more closely at small things.

  2. Artifacts. I too look for the story within the visit or the passing-by. Your descriptions invite my imagination “inspired kindling for a reluctant fire” Love it. I remember my mom, after my dad complained about some driver, would always invent a story to explain the driver’s actions, as a way, I’m sure, to calm the complaints of my dad. Thanks for the sharing.

    https://askwhatelse.wordpress.com/2015/03/01/sol15-a-writing-life/

  3. Like you, I am always looking for stories. And I totally agree with you, many, many times, the stories are in the artifacts.

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