As I write this in my home office, which in these late-pandemic, work-from-home days is simply my bed, I can look at the nightstand on the left and see on one of its open-slotted shelves a giant bumblebee.
Its head has been sewn on at least twice, and it used to make a bell-like noise. It was one of the first plushies I remember having as a kid, and it moved with me through the years, only today it’s not for cuddling — it’s on display.
In the nightstand on my right is a rarely opened drawer filled with personal trinkets of the melancholic nostalgic sort, such as a pack of tarot cards left recently by someone dear to me as well as the photo booth pictures we took one night when I failed to look at the camera. I like to keep some of those items close but out of sight, their presence somewhat ghostly.
They’re the spirits of close friends, past partners or departed family…
