the box

Being a super lurker goes only so far. I cannot put her name into search and get anything but horrible. She didn't make it into the social media age. She didn't live long enough to see blogs or anything like facebook.

I've found so many others on the slightest bits of remembered information. Even a two or three word phrase from the past eventually tunnels me through mountains of data mining to current home addresses, regardless of name changes and privacy.

Not her.

I keep trying to datamine through my broken brain to something, anything, and I come back to hard reality over and over again.

There is nothing more to see. To know. To find. No way to connect, or go back...

I'm running into some very surprising memories along the way. I come back with parts of myself I never expected to see again.

But she is gone. I can't unburn that box of letters.

And the others aren't telling me what was in them.

What I get for thinking I really could get rid of myself like that. Go burning boxes with my heart inside, they wouldn't show me where they hid it safe from me, would they?

We need to come to an agreement, apparently.

I want my brain back. I hid the clues, I followed the trails, I found some of the treasures, but the map is gone.

The complexities in my head are making more sense lately. Can't help noticing it's all being triggered by my dad. I couldn't be more surprised because I thought it was my mom all these years, so why am I NOT surprised?

I think I burned that box to hide it from my dad.

There was more love in that box than in a lifetime from him.

I think my mom knew. And she never told dad.