In the box of your things;

Your wallet. Its red, because someone told you it was good feng shui to have a red wallet.

I opened it and counted your last $9.85.

Your license expired in sept of 2015 but you were gone by then.

There’s 8 school photos, 4 of me and 4 of Shaun. Shaun with varying hair lengths and me kinda just looking the same.

There’s a crusty old piece of paper with mine, Shaun’s and dads phone number written on it. That made me laugh, coz I know you’d never be able to remember them, even though mine is the simplest number in the world.

I sprayed your perfume. It doesn’t smell as bad as i remembered. I cried a little then.

The pair of shoes still has the shape of your feet moulded into them. They are white, of course.

I have the last jars of the Dr Lewinn’s face cream you used every day of my entire life, the silly little elephant that sat beside your bed, Your compact, your hair clip,a lipstick, your hand cream, a box of your hair dye and your sunglasses.

A black and white photo of your dad. I hope you’re with him now.

There’s a letter from you to me from 2010 where you called yourself “your sexy mum”. You werent wrong.

I held your phone in my hand. God its so small.. And covered in rhinestones…If you could see me now…

There’s a “women in home” magazine printed from the month and year of your birth. I remember when we found that in a little shop in Morpeth!

Your watch! I’d forgotten about that but i can see it on your wrist now, under the lights at Cue. It never ceases to surprise me, all the forgetting.

There’s so many letters in here, some to me, some from me and others you’re writing to yourself. I’m not sure I can read them this time.

This box reminds me you were real.

Okay the perfumes giving me a headache…