Residue

People often talk so dismissively of residues. It’s what’s left behind afterall when all the better, more worthwhile stuff has been availed or done with.

But residues are important too because they are the only glimpse into what transpired long after something has ceased to be.

I am terribly maudlin today. I’m sitting in my empty apartment and all around me are residues. Of my child crawling and leaving grubby handprints while he learnt to walk with support, of his discovery of crayons and markers (the walls bear testimony), the marks left by the tape I used to put up pictures and glow-in-the dark figurines for him…

The couches I plonked myself in, the spot by the wall where the fridge used to be, the empty library, the beds we slept in..all seem to have left an impression in their places while they make a new home for themselves in the new apartment.

I can actually see myself from back then..the talks that went into the night, the smallish balcony where every new flower was photographed and published on Facebook (much to Red’s annoyance)…

All that’s left are residues of a family who lived here…cooked, laughed, cried, spent seemingly endless time putting a baby to sleep…and made memories together.

And now that I look back..it was all good.

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