We baked apple crisp in the Instant Pot with maple syrup that went bad over five years ago. The plastic canister sounded like a hollow rattle, the crystallized sugar shifting like bingo balls. There was a couple tablespoons of syrup left. We poured in what we could and you put the bottle back in the fridge. Every time I open the fridge now I can’t help but to smile. How you like to keep things around.
This home is a nostalgia neighborhood. The ticket stubs from New York. The triple A batteries from the hotel in New Jersey. The handwritten name tag from Alumni weekend.
My home is full of our memories too and sometimes scented, depending on what candle is next to our momentos. I like to keep mine in a box with a glass window. Our relationship, encased, a collage of small moments scaling the glass.
It amazes me how much we both treasure the has beens and keep shaping the will bes.