Toothpaste... who knew?

After Sage died, I started using the tube of toothpaste they had used. I don’t know why. It made me feel close to them somehow. It ran out recently. And it was surprisingly upsetting. Another piece of them gone. I hated throwing the empty tube away. I regretted using it. I’m crying writing this. And even that makes me feel ridiculous. I signed up for a decluttering newsletter on the first of the year. Because if I am anything, it’s a packrat and I have no space here. They said to start this week in bathrooms and closets because there is no emotional attachment there. Makes sense. So I began there. Turns out there is. There are memories of Sage tied to everything. The toothpick for their braces that they never got to get off. The dozens of hair products for so many different hair styles and cuts and colors and whatever’s that I angsted over with them. The elaborate costume makeup that they used to do all of their crazy dress-up stuff. The regular make-up they were learning to use, and it was so sweet. Their hairbrush. Their deodorant. Their lotion. It smells like them. And their toothpaste. Who fucking knew. 💔