Closure

     Take all the memories. Untack the photographs, one by one by one. Trace your fingers over each smiling face; remember the moment when the flash went off. Cheese: frozen in time. Flick through your old journals. Re-read your scribbled notes, your additions and highlightings, all those times you thought you'd never want to forget. Close your eyes- picture yourself back in each moment. Collect up your keepsakes, all the things you've scattered around the place- that hat, those postcards. Hold them to your chest, memorising the shape of each one.
     Now. Gather the items together. Lay out a piece of fabric, place your bundle in the centre and bring the edges up, shrouding the items until no more of the past can be seen. Take a length of ribbon and wrap it around, making sure the contents are secure. Fix it in a bow at the top.
     Pack up your collection of memories and begin to walk. Go as far as you can, as if by walking you'll leave all of it behind. Travers until night, then make your way to the top of a hill, somewhere you can see everything, but at a distance. Look out at the lights, a million lives going on that you have no part of. think of everyone you miss, everyone you're losing. Assign them each a light. Look for the furthest set of car tail-lights you can see. Stand there, focusing on it as it gets further and further. Breathe. Take it all in, inhaling the view like oxygen to your heart.
     Kneel down. Remove your bundle from wherever it's stored, and place it on the floor- carefully, like a baby. Pull the covering tighter- mother fixing child's blanket. Then, do what no mother should. Cover it in lighter fluid, or alcohol- whatever it'll take to destroy it. Strike a match, and hold it close. Stand back, quickly.
     Watch your past light up the world.
     Once you've made ashes of your past life, gather them up. Hold the dusty powder in cupped hands, waiting as the remnants of warmth escape. Imagine it as your memories taking their last breaths, the lifeblood slowly slipping away.
     Almost there. Take your lantern, and fill the small basket with the ashes. Dust your hands off, leaving no trace upon yourself. Once it's full, light the small flame. Hold the lantern as the hot air inflates the surface above. Observe the flickering of the candle- something so beautiful, yet so dangerous and untamed. Symbolism.
     When it's ready- not a second before, not a second after- let go. Let go. Let it fly, over the faraway lights, over the head of each and every person you've loved, carried by the carbon present in your veins. Watch it until it's gone: everything you can no longer hold. That's your life. Fix your eyes on it, unwavering.
     Once it's out of sight, disappeared like the headlights from minutes ago, turn away. Do not hesitate. Do not hold on a moment longer than needs be. Put the lights, the people, away from your mind. They are not there anymore. Start moving. Move on. Do not stop. You are done, now. Go on.