Pockets

Sometimes, there are small pockets of the past that we think have been put away for good. Having artfully dismissed their existence, we have learned to keep trudging forward. One day, we realize that those pockets of past have been present all along. Even though it had been filed away, it was never completely closed, resulting in bits and pieces floating around in the brains atmosphere. The pieces are so tiny that we don't notice at first. They are easily brushed aside by the swat of a hand, or swipe of a finger. Except, one day we look at our hand, and find that there is something on it that we haven't seen in a very long time. It is almost unfamiliar - until it all comes rushing back. There is familiarity. A sense of responsibility that calls us to take all of the things out of the pockets and examine them, piece by piece. As the pieces are being examined, a new sense of understanding begins to form, and we recognize that these pockets are who we are. The pieces begin to shift, changing shape, colors and sizes, coming together not into one piece, but into many separate, but yet strangely whole pieces. We examine them individually and see facets of each pocket we had once filed away, and we deal with them differently this time. We recognize them not only for their beauty, but for their purpose in moving us forward. Having realized that they only cluttered our minds before, we decide to leave them out this time, and to see what happens next.


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