I have left pieces of myself

All over this city

With all sorts of people:

A water bottle in the bathroom of Kirstenbosch gardens

A Tupperware in the back of an Uber

An earring under someone’s bed.

In return I have collected pieces of other people

Sometimes intentionally, a trade of sorts

And sometimes not

Mostly I don’t even know these mementos exist

Until one day I do:

A pair of tracksuit pants that I asked a friend to return

A book that I borrowed that was easier not to return

A tattoo that was impossible to return

Whenever I use a specific bowl I think of the friend who gave it to me

At the bottom of my cupboard is a hoodie that once belonged to someone who is no longer

I try not to wear it. I still want it to smell like her

(It hasn’t smelled like her in ages)

In my desk drawer, a scrap of paper with a handwritten note

“Enjoy your surf. Hopefully we meet again.”

By a stranger I shared small talk with

Wearing nothing but a surf-towel and saltiness in a beach parking lot.

(We never met again)

I love finding inscriptions inside of second hand books

“Dearest Sabrina. I hope that you may enjoy this beautiful book: a book beautiful – like yourself. With love from Keith.”

Other people’s mementos

(Keith, I don’t know why Sabrina gave this piece of you away but I will keep it safe)

Some pieces are a little less tangible:

My grandparent’s landline number imprinted in my memory

The directions to my best friend’s family home

A recipe given to me by an ex-boyfriend’s mother, learned by heart

All impossible to forget

There’s a Kesha song that reminds me of an old friend every time I hear it

Every single time!

The other day someone sent me a poem he thought I might enjoy

(He was right)

I already had the poem written down for safe-keeping

In a notebook that, co-incidentally, he had gifted me years ago

We marvelled at how wonderfully connected everything is

Little mementos of ourselves all over the place

Connecting dots we never knew existed