While going through a nasty ‘mail
An ex had sent me long ago,
I stumbled on a nice detail:
A something she had vowed to throw.
I used to slip some sticky notes
Inside the bag she brought to school.
They used to have some poem quotes –
Some lines I found too beautiful.
The data hoarder that I am
I’d logged those in a journal too.
And later with a handycam
I filmed those pages, flipping through.
The film became an Excel sheet,
And then a MATLAB database,
And then again a Google Sheet
I lost around my college days.
I laughed and hovered on reply –
No clue if she still used this ‘mail –
And shrugging, sent a worth-a-try,
Archiving off the entire trail.
A fortnight after losing hope,
The mailman gave our bell a ring.
He handed me an envelope
That had her cursive lettering.
No sticky notes, no poem quotes,
It only had a pocketbook
Of limericks (and mold and motes),
She’d picked up at a book fair nook.
Inside, an old “I love you, M.”
Some scattered marginalia –
I traced the paper scars from them –
A bold “megalomania.”
“You have that silly smile again,”
My mother picked the envelope.
I tried to snatch it back in vain.
“The one who made you moan and mope.”
I sighed and told her everything.
She laughed and laughed and walked away,
Returned with journals bound by string.
“Your mother loves you every day.”
Minakhi Misra 