Attention to Detail P.2

Part Two – Twist

          After my long day, I get home to a partially moved in townhouse. I just moved in from not to far down the street. Although my old home is just down the block, I feel renewed and energized from the new place. I get my hair into a bun with this fresh motivation and start to get to work on emptying all the boxes.

          After hours and hours of organizing and cleaning, I finally have everything in its spot. I cannot believe I got my whole place put together in one night! I feel surprised and accomplished.

          After I get out of the shower, I get settled into my nice comfy desk chair. Still in a robe and slippers, I pour a glass of wine and decide to finally relax from my day even though it’s getting into the wee morning hours. I pull up my computer and start to search threw some other photographers work for research. I reach over to grasp my wine glass but I miss and knock the entire glass over onto the ground. I notice the drips that go onto each drawer of my dresser next to my desk. So I take each drawer out and clean it thoroughly. A strange stroke of bad luck in a day of positives.

          As I pull the last drawer out, a book falls to the ground. I gaze at it for a moment and realize its old, it’s dusty and torn. I’ve had the dresser since I was little, my parents actually put it together before I was born and I imagined they would have cleaned out the drawers. I start to pick up the book and wipe off the dust with my bare hands and see a picture of myself. Surprised like a dart to the heart, I remember vividly my mother always talking about the missing baby book. I remember this because it seemed very important that we find it but my parents passed years ago before I was able to know them well. I remember things, many things but I was only 7 when they passed.

          I start to look through the pages, I notice the longest answers to many of the questions. Which is not by chance, my mother was a writer and loved to describe every detail of things. I read many of her things still, in an old notebook she left behind. As I get to certain questions in the baby book, I notice a pattern. A pattern of words that seemed to catch my eye, something I remember from before.

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