Dawn always seemed to leave something here
At my place when visiting
Especially in winter with all the extra clothing
And always so much on her mind
As we all in our own way

One of the last times I visited her
At her old place on Woodroffe
I forgot my sunglasses
Which would have been in the summer of 2018
And I did eventually manage to get them back

I know some people forget things on purpose
As a safeguard to ensure future encounters
Which is fine by me
But I don’t think that’s what Dawn had in mind

Her last item was a woman’s toque
With the long strings to tie at the bottom
Thanksgiving I believe in 2019
Cool weather-wise
I kept meaning to get it back to her
Especially with winter coming
But our face to faces
Had been reduced to special occasions
And she never did get the toque back

When she moved out a few years ago
She had to leave stuff behind
Promising to pick it up
Once finding the right place
“No problemo, whenever” I told her
“Just taking up unneeded space in my basement”

There were some big items
A drafting table she used to
Draw and paint on when living here
Her ceramic clay
She did remove at one point
A table and an old hat/coat rack
Both I ended up buying off her
The table to sort photographs
The rack to hang clothes to dry
That I won’t put in the dryer

A lot of small items too
Some of which can go in the garbage
Three framed family photographs
Of people I don’t recognize
I’ll have to get those to her sister
At some point

Dawn did manage to retrieve
Her chef’s diploma
Last formal training
As recently as 2017
I was there to photograph the event

Sold her my guitar and amp a couple of years ago
But the amp she never picked up
She always liked playing the guitar
Though never really could

And now the amp sits forlorn in a corner
In the back of my basement
With Dawn’s toque draped over top

Maybe she really did leave them on purpose?
Kind of her way of saying
“I won’t always be around"
And with the hope maybe
I would never forget her

Don’t think I ever will


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10/25/2020

Posted on 10/25/2020
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti