Reconnect: The Story of an old flame

Part 5: Turkey and Old Boxes

"Here you go." I said, setting down the shopping bag on the counter and beginning to unpack. As usual, I'm always the one who gets sent to the supermarket for last minute things

Ever been to the supermarket on Thanksgiving? Not pretty. It was a huge mess to try to maneuver through and the check out lines? Atrocious. The worst part is that everyone is back in town for the holiday and so it's hard to go anywhere without running into someone whose name you can't remember but who seems to remember roo much about you. That's pretty much what happened to me.

I ended up in line with some girl I went to high school with who was recalling the time I'd almost gotten into a fight outside of our calculus class. First of all- I had completely forgotten I took calculus and secondly- the incident was a complete blank to me. It sounds like it was a pretty serious situation though. From what she tells me, some girl who didn't like me grabbed my back pack and pulled so hard that I stumbled down three or four steps and scraped my knee. It bled through my jeans and everyone turned to look.

"Are you sure that was me? I think I would remember something like that." I said and she nodded, describing in detail how the girl was yelling at me for god knows what.

"This was senior year?" I asked, again trying to form some type of image.

"Oh yeah and I remember it was you because you had that Dave Matthews Band patch on your back pack." She said. I smiled.

It had to be me- I used to be such a huge fan- but it still didn't make sense that I had no memory of it. In fact, try as I did, I couldn't remember much about that semester.

"Did you get everything?" My mother asked.

"Yes." I said, going over the list and double checking. "Everything."

"Good. I was cleaning up your uncle's room..." my mom began as I took a seat across the counter from her.

"Already?" I asked, thinking it was so soon.

"I have to do it sometime. Anyway, I was organizing and I found some boxes that look like they belong to you." She said.

"Really? Why would those be there?" I asked.

"It did used to be your room before you moved out." She said logically. I sighed.

"I know but that was ages ago. Why would I still have stuff there?" I asked. My mom shrugged as she handed me a beer.

"What is it?" I continued.

"Go take a look." She said, turning her attention back to the food. I turned towards the hall that let to my uncle's room. It felt strange going in there but curiosity was getting the better of me. Besides, if I didn't check it out now, my mom was liable to throw it all out.

After a few minutes I finally got up, beer in hand and moved in that direction. I stopped just outside the room and set my beer down on a table in the hall. My uncle was a deeply religious man and a recovered alcoholic, bringing a beer into his room didn't quite feel right. I looked around, realizing my mother had practically finished.

The only things left were his clothes, which still hung in the closet. I ram my fingers along the fabric for a moment before turning back to the task at hand. There, against the far wall and coated in a thick layer of dust was a pile of boxes, neatly stacked and recently uncovered. With a sigh I walked over and pulled the big one on top to the floor.

It was all my stuff- old CDs, an Original iPod that no longer worked, some posters and old text books. I was never the type to keep mementos. Where most of my friends had memory books and hundreds of photos detailing our high school life, I only had a handful of things: the senior yearbook, a champagne flute with seniors '04 scribbled on it, and one senior shirt. That was it.