Bob

by MB


I began to view every object as thought it bore a marked stamp of time. Before Bob. After Bob. I saw life as a series of inanimate objects which had or had not been around when I knew him, when I worked for him, when I spent three years of my life growing beneath his great wisdom.

Did I use this computer when he was alive? That toothbrush? The lines grew blurrier over time.

I lived my life immersed in the memories I pieced together, relishing in the hours and days I reconstructed. Dates held no significance as they existed in the present, serving instead as systemic reminders of the past that would not repeat itself. May 18 would always be May 18, 2013, the date of his commencement address. No matter how many years passed, the 18 refused to move forward, stuck in the molasses memories I suppose qualify as nostalgia.