Dear Diary #444 Last Entry/Hasta Luego.

Dear Diary #444 Last Entry/Hasta Luego.
Lee.

Your hair brush is still on the bathroom windowsill. In its tiny black stems, strands of you remain. There is nothing else left of you in the house that used to be a home, no other memento. Everything else you packed into the turquoise American Tourister, a case that holds 32 litres. How do you stow a whole life into such an area? How did your life become so compressed, so easy to stash into such a ‘non-space?’ And why did I fixate on the minutiae whilst the bigger-picture passed me by? A picture that became a snapshot made of a turquoise, American Tourister, gripped by a hand I used to hold, rolling out the front door, it’s squeaking wheels and the clip-clop of your high heels replacing missing words that should’ve been spoken.
You were my rock,scissors and paper; my snakes ‘n’ ladders and chess; my Saturday night party and Sunday morning hangovers. You made the unbearable, bearable; gave reasons to journeys without destinations; a silence in an argument, a pillow for my head. But now, all I have is the hairbrush. I know I’ll obsess about it and treat it with a reverie reserved for relics and the bones of saints, but for me, you were above any dry, dead dogma: you were real; my religion hewn from flesh, blood and soul.

Hasta luego, Margot. xxx