What is Left? A Musing…

Any right-minded New Yorker (living in a pre war building) knows that a humidifier is absolutely essential to make it through the winter months. The steam radiators suck all the moisture out of the room, leaving us thirsty and our skin dry.

Most recently, I noticed that some of the shells that I collected in the summer months and stored on the shelf above my radiator have become brittle and some have even cracked from the parched air.

This got me thinking about the question of “what is left?”

Do these shells know they are far from their watery home?

Do they know that they don’t belong here even after their living organism has long departed?

This string of thoughts got me pondering about my own life and the lives of the people around me.

What do we leave behind, whether that be in each passing moment or in our own lifetimes?

Do parts of ourselves and our souls stay here?

Do we leave parts of it in places, things, or with people?

Are our memories of places, things, or people tangible beyond their material matter?

How much of who I am is a part of my own shell, vessel, body?

What will be left in my own vessel?

Will I know that I am gone when I leave my own shell behind?

So many questions to think about.

What is left?

What do you leave?

What do your actions leave behind?

Who do you leave them with?