Vestige

Today I went to the restaurant that used to be a tchotchke shop.

I wore my t-shirt with the logo of the donut shop that used to be down the street.

I wore the necklace that my mother doesn’t remember giving me.

I went home on a one-way street that used to be a two way

Some days my timelines merge.

Places and things become monuments and relics.

I cannot hear the voices for the echoes. Maybe I now understand my grandparents who sat among their dated furnishings telling stories and stories.

Even those stories have become part of my complex landscape.