Precious things

Yesterday I had been doing a bit of tidying up and reorganising of my bedroom. While sorting through various items in my top drawer, I found a vintage handbag in which I keep small relics of my previous lovers. As a general rule, I don't keep photographs, but prefer to rely on my memory for that. However, I like to retain little things that remind me of special times that I might otherwise forget. Letters, train tickets, trinkets, museum passes... It gives one the option of being able to summon a memory almost on demand. All one needs to do is find the item and it all comes flowing back - the smell of the grass, the strawberry stain on the kid gloves, the bright sunshine.

I spent a moment looking through the contents of the bag as I had a particular craving for one memory in particular, embodied by a place card with a little message written on it. It was special because it had been given to me on the night that I met this certain chap but also because it was the only souvenir I had of him and his illegible, arachnid scrawl. It wasn't there. I searched everywhere and noticed that I was starting to get frantic. This was strange because I had thought that I was over this chap. We had had a brief but intense interlude almost exactly two years ago. However, he left me utterly enchanted. I had never quite bonded with someone on an intellectual level like him. He was naughty, but nice, a gentleman, yet in some respects a cheeky cad, always impeccably turned out and professional. We also had a lot in common due to our work, and it was a refreshing change to be able to talk to someone about my day and have them understand completely.

To my great relief I eventually found the card after some time fretting. It occurred to me that this chap had obviously meant more to me than I had initially thought. But there had never been any question of it lasting more than the brief interlude it was. This was largely due to circumstance and the fact that my better judgment always screamed that he was intrinsically wrong for me, no matter how good me made me feel. He had got in touch with me recently after a long hiatus, which may have initiated this nostalgia for him. Since then, I have dearly wanted to talk to him again. Nothing romantic. No kisses or caresses. Just a nice chat. I do hope that wherever he is now, he is happy.