Space Heater

If I could capture every memory, every conversation, every half second glance of the most beautiful of beautifuls...I probably wouldn't. Isn't there something to be said about the sacredness of all of these moments? About the need for us to be open to them, to embrace them and, when the time is right, to let them go? I have the tendency to and am certainly guilty of trying to save every single tiny memory I can, down to old, worn out ticket stubs that aren't even legible anymore, just to have Something. I feel like if I throw these things away they will be lost from my memory forever. But what I think is the truth of the matter, is the fact that I don't want my story to be lost. I sometimes have this dream that someone will come looking for me one day. Not to find Me, but to learn my story. I don't even know that I will ever Have a story, but it's just something that has always stuck with me. That maybe, for some random reason, somebody..somewhere...will be looking. I am so intrigued when I open up old books and find old, smelly notes hidden within the pages. Thoughts carelessly scribbled on the back of a receipt, or even on the dusty, bound leaves themselves. I feel like I have fallen straight into the footprint of a complete stranger; holding the aging pages in the same way he or she did years before me. Many a Dollar and Peso have contributed to the collecting of these random souvenirs. And maybe one day, someday, some stranger will find mine. And maybe, just maybe, he or she will save it too.