Poems and Short Stories

A Note

I have your old book.

I have always wondered if you see me from the other side. Do you watch and leave me notes scattered through the universe to let me know I'm okay.

In some greater scheme of things, I would like to think I was meant to end up with this book of yours.

One of the many of your possessions that lost their ownership.

I read it and think about your eyes scanning over the same lines that mine do now.

Did that make you feel comforted too?

Did this line give you a lightbulb moment?

Did you get to that one part about hope?

Did you ever read this book?

Even if you didn't, I would like to think you tried. I like to imagine you did, since I know I can never figure that out for sure.

I think someone gave this book to you.

There's sticky notes conversations on various pages.

It almost makes me lose it each time.
To see some sign of life still tucked into your belongings.

These notes comfort me.
I like to think about you reading this book.
To stumble upon these notes and feel glad you kept turning pages.

I don't know who they're from, but I know they're from someone who loved you.

From someone who was with you in spirit, just how you are for me now.

Maybe this book and these notes were meant to find me as well.

I'm glad they did.

Bittersweet reminders of what I've lost, but that you're still here in some distant far away life.