The File Project

My new file cabinet is causing me some anxiety. I bought the file-keeper last week and carried the old one, the one Chris and I bought, down to the curb before I had a chance to think too much. The trash truck came Friday morning, which was the last time I saw the old, putty-colored, used and beaten container. The new one sits in its place.

Chris kept meticulously organized files on absolutely everything. I still have piles of the folders he kept because I just can’t seem to bring myself to go through them, yet. He filed his ideas for audio documentaries, plays we wrote, ideas he had, stories he authored and other hopeful creative projects, in addition to bill stubs and other such important papers. In a lot of ways he lives in those folders and in a lot of ways I’m too scared to dive into the folders of his mind.

My new cabinet is empty, save for the new, colorful file folders I placed into its drawers yesterday. I have a lot of organizing to do. I suppose keeping his files wouldn’t be a crime. It’s possible that Bonnie would store them in her basement with his other belongings I couldn’t be around, but also couldn’t ever, ever throw away. I can’t ever throw any part of my Chris away.

There’s a storm-a-brewin’. I’m safe for the moment, but soon I will throw myself into the "file project", the eye of the storm, and the violent winds and rain will whip my soul around, again.

I’m not brave enough, yet.