I have no keys

by MaryAnn Johanson
no comments yet

I just realized this. One way to look at how are lives are defined is through our keys. Keys to our homes, keys to our cars, keys to our offices.

I have no keys.

Oh, I’ve temporarily been carrying around a set of keys to my brother’s apartment, where I’ve been staying for the past week-plus. But I’ll give those back tomorrow, when I leave. And I’m keeping my post office box open, and there’s a key for that… but that’s in the possession of bronxbee, who’ll be collecting the mail for me once in a while.

So I have no keys.

It feels weird.

share and enjoy
               
If you haven’t commented here before, your first comment will be held for MaryAnn’s approval. This is an anti-spam, anti-troll, anti-abuse measure. If your comment is not spam, trollish, or abusive, it will be approved, and all your future comments will post immediately. (Further comments may still be deleted if spammy, trollish, or abusive, and continued such behavior will get your account deleted and banned.)
If you’re logged in here to comment via Facebook and you’re having problems, please see this post.
PLEASE NOTE: The many many Disqus comments that were missing have mostly been restored! I continue to work with Disqus to resolve the lingering issues and will update you asap.
subscribe
notify of
0 Comments
oldest
newest most voted
Inline Feedbacks
view all comments