Things that Sting

I’ll be at the store for something extremely trivial but for whatever reason absolutely necessary at the moment, when something small catches my eye. Something that reminds me of my boyfriend, or an old friend. Maybe a game or puzzle or some other activity I think so and so would really enjoy. Or maybe it’s an inspiration, something that will spur me onto learning a new skill, or keeping up with a habit.

Whatever it is I’ll generally buy it if it’s reasonably priced, the potential of that purchase bringing me a hopeful glow inside of what may come. How so and so will enjoy them, or how much fun it’ll be to do X with that other person.

Generally these purchases reach their recipients, are used in some other fashion, or is relegated to a hidden space because it’s been too long to return the item I now realize will never see use. It’s shameful, and I try my best to find new homes or purpose for these items, and I know eventually they’ll find a place that isn’t hidden under my desk…

But it’s not the shame or guilt of these impulse buys that stings, I can deal with my impulsivity just fine.

It’s when I see my mom in these actions.

How she would go grocery shopping and see DIgorno’s on sale, 2 for 7.99. We’d agreed a long time ago Digorno’s was better than delivery, not to mention one of the only quick dinner options we both liked.

Or maybe it was my favorite chai tea on sale, or a style of shirt I always wore, or some other thing that was on sale. Clearance section. Two for one.

BUt they weren’t. They just caught her eye, and she thought of me, and maybe we could spend some time together when I stopped by to pick it up. To have some pizza and watch Dexter.

God how I hated it, I knew she had the best intentions but the last thing I wanted to deal with was stuff I didn’t pick out. I had to find a place for, go get from her, I don’t actually like that brand of chai tea…

And now, nearly two years since she left, it stings to think of how many messages she’d left asking when I could come by and “grab that stuff”.

If I wanted to come over Friday night cause “There was this wicked deal on DiGiorno’s ”

“Did you wanna finish that last season of Dexter? If not I’m gonna go ahead and cancel HBO….”

And I just wish…

I wish she would have stayed. I wish that she’d have taken me up on the calls to go for a Sunday walk or play a game I found, gave sewing or painting a try…

I wish she’d known she didn’t have to buy things to get my attention, she just had to share her attention with me.

And I wish I’d’ve fucking gone over more often for coffee and a chat, but I didn’t.

More than anything else though, I wish she’d stayed. That she could’ve found a reason within herself. A reason to believe it would not feel so awful forever. To not to take those pills and cut those wrists before curling up with her pillow and leaving everything behind.

To not leave me behind.

Now my eyes sting.