Things Lost

I enter through the metal, white garage door tinged with rust, bags in both hands. My feet stop briefly and I stand in the only unoccupied area of the garage, breathing in dust as I scan the room. For years the garage had never housed the things it was built for. As a matter of fact, there was all sorts of lost items in the garage, everything except for it's purpose of holding two vehicles. My eyes fall on an ancient ATV, something we declared two summers ago that we would rebuild and take to the cabin in Wisconsin. How exciting it was to have a project we could all work on together, and how even more exciting and laughable when we finally got it running and he drove it down the driveway and the street with four flat tires. It stands untouched since that summer of declaration. There were assorted items from a lost business of hers. Plans, plans, and more plans for the largest garage sale of the century never executed. Old toys strewn on the farthest wall like childhood memories. Distant and intangible. An old entertainment center the same age as me. New street bike tires destined for the rebuild of his old street bike thrown against the nearest wall like a pair of old sneakers. The glory days of his marathons cast aside and forgotten. I make my way through the old white door and push the garage button for it's closure. I stand, a heavy weight holding my body down. To my left, a flimsy wooden door to a basement with the intent for it's reorganization and contribution to a garage sale. Started and unfinished. On the glass kitchen table I see two days worth of mail rifled through by somebody I know. A full sink of dishes. A half full cup of cold coffee. To my far right, a couch with snuggled-in blankets. I feel a twinge in my heart that I cannot ignore. All these day to day things gone by without my knowing. Who had drank the coffee? Did someone make it for someone else? Who got cozy in those blankets? Who had gotten the mail? What was for breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Who had made it? Who had eaten it? Was it eaten without me? This place is a fortress of unpursued and lost dreams, and forgotten memories. It is also no longer a home to me because I know nothing of what happens inside these walls any longer. My distance, my lack of presence. I feel the onset of adulthood, the onset of individuality. All these things wanted but now resented, but still unable to avoid. Nothing is constant anymore and it frightens me.