The mission oak, arts and crafts
gift, notches of history across is surface,
came as a surprise on her birthday
when he still loved her.

He knew she wanted a writing desk and 
set it up while she was at work. It was
impossible to contain her exciement and
gratitude for something she least expected.

She always sensed her writing got in the way
of their relationship, typewriter taking up space
on the kitchen table, papers and piles hilled
around the house, frustration with rejections.

The purity of the gift said he loved her still, and
she was ready to settle into that sacred space
once the girls were asleep.  One drawer with 
two brass pulls held her secrets as days passed.

His love faded, the way old fabric fades exposed to
the sun.  Their time together faded the way memories
fade with age.  She moved the writing desk to 
a new home, old secrets kept locked in the drawer.

One day it was time to move again, downsize, give away
sell, donate so many things.  Pieces of her life that no
longer fit into a small space.  The writing desk went to 
the local Re-Store. She felt a twinge of sadness as it left.

It was not until she saw a Facebook post of her desk
for sale that she realized how attached she was
to that gift, to his love, to the dreams that once were
depositied in secret in a single drawer with brass pulls.