# 38

I think of all the unfinished things, all that was left as loose threads in my life. Read a note in my journal about losing the truth tables. Our lives come together and apart in pieces. The Life of Riley swinging kitchen door in the Pasadena apartment, the yellow wicker tray which I painted for the nursery, still in my bathroom today. How can we know what will endure? I think of the way I used to hand him my earrings before I fell asleep, of the small gestures that build our lives.

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