Top-Shelf

I found myself on the top shelf while cleaning out my closet. I’m a messy person, no doubt about it, and my closet was no exception. I cleaned my room two nights ago. The things I could not find an immediate home for went into the closet. I had shirts hanging on the door, and various cables for electronics piled high on the floor. Beneath that was more clothing, blankets, and miscellaneous stuff. I started by removing the bulky items, like my guitars, into the actual bedroom. This allowed me to fit my 5’8" and 270lbs of ass into the closet and start moving the smaller stuff. A few things got tossed. but not much since I am a pack rat of sort. Not quite a hoarder, thankfully. Everything else got dragged out and sorted. Clothes went on hangers, to be ironed later if I remembered, and blankets got folded. At last, I was sitting with my butt on clean carpeted floor. I still had clothes to organize and I hadn’t even looked to the top shelf. I remembered it had been packed last time I did this and would require meticulous effort to sort through and remove the last remnants of her. I found myself pondering the odd comfort I found in the closet. The close four walls acting as protection from the rest of the world. It reminded me of my preteen years when I went and stayed with my substance abusing father for the summers. He never hurt me, and never allowed anyone, too. Physically, at least. I’ve always been emotionally screwed for no reason at all. (that’s part of the reason I’m harsh to the emotionally needy. It reminds me of what I hate about my self) Anyways, those summers were spent mostly with cousins, aunts, uncles, and my grandmother. I had one cousin in particular that I would spend the nights with. I would always find myself asleep in her closet, curled up with a blanket and one of those thick pillows with arm rest on it. It was like a cocoon of sorts. If no one could find me (we lived on family land with all the houses less than a football field away), they would call Shannon and have her check the closet. Insert gay jokes about coming out of the closet and have a laugh, if that’s your thing. I have nothing against gay people in general, but I’m not gay myself. Back on topic, now. I finally came back to the present and looked up at what I had left. The view of the clutter above me let a feeling of desperation replace that of cozy safety. I could see shoeboxes inches from toppling onto me. I had clothes I never wore hanging smothering close to my face. I was suddenly claustrophobic, and everything was closing in. I thought to myself, this is how I feel when I think of her. Hopeless, lost in my own mess. I scanned further back along the top shelf to where things were not as cramped. I sat there looking at the back corner, and blinked away the despair to make room for calming peace that was starting to flood in. I saw myself. I saw the car tag from GA that I kept when we moved to Carolina. I saw my Elite Edition MW3 box for 360. Next to that was my retired squire 15g amp. It kept blowing fuses, and then I broke the wires trying to trouble shoot it.  In front of the amp was a NIB Dell External CD Drive. That rested on top of my child sized hacksaw that I used to build a porch for Kathy’s play house as a child. I believe that porch still stands today, albeit crooked as hell. The clear face shield of my motorcycle helmet was next to that. Fittingly that only a part of it is there, since I only learned to ride and never bought a bike or got my license. On the other side was my Orange bag (my favorite color) that contained my paintball gear. You can see the rebel flag barrel sock through the mesh. I’m not for what the flag has grown to represent to today’s youth, but I have always liked that I was born in the south. I had grits tonight with dinner at Waffle House, lol. I’m a proud American, even though I hate all politics. Full support for our troops. Back to the closet, now. The last thing I noticed was a white envelope sticking out around the edges of the license plate. It contains the Valentine’s Day card from her. It was pushed back behind everything, but still there. Still a part of my metaphorical me. Everything I have loved or still love was present in that corner. My music in the amp, the tech geek in the CD Drive, The gamer in the Special Edition Game, the child in the country holding the hack saw, the new found adventurer in the helmet lens, the GA boy in the car tag, the anger outlet in the paintball gear, and the heart-broken lover in the card. I found myself on the top-shelf, and I love it.