I was thinking about this concept the other day, and I couldn't help but realize how consistently it happens.
I see it like this:
There is a long hallway, and on either side of this hallway, there are framed pictures. The floor is worn, and well traveled. The pictures are neat and not dusty. As I walk down this hallway, men in blue suits are walking around with clipboards. Occasionally they gather at one photo, and a heated debate begins. They wave papers and quote statistics, and every once in a while, this debate ends with someone fetching the ladder.
Teddy carries the ladder all the time. He is the official ladder boy. He can't be much older than eleven, but he's been doing this job since he was born. Child labor violation or not, teddy is the only person small enough to climb the precarious ladder without toppling it.
When they fetch Teddy, the ladder goes up with Teddy, and momentarily he comes back down with a photo. The frame remains, sitting empty like so many of the frames in this hallway do. These frames represent the roles in my life.
Although I do not direct the people in this room, they have been busily managing these frames for as long as I can remember. I have visited them only three times in my lifetime, and these visits happened in dreams. However, this hallway is as real to me as the room where I sit right now.
I remember the first time I realized that only people leave, not their frames. Each frame in that hallway has housed several people at one time or another. I suppose psychologists would hypothesize that I have invented this hallway to distance myself from loss, and perhaps they're right. But loss is a reality which every person has to face, and my method of dealing with loss was, and continues to be my hallway of frames.
Sometimes I pass a frame which has held some of the most precious people in my life, but even these frames were eventually emptied. It is the way of life. The person comes, I tend their photo with care, smile fondly at the sight of it, but eventually Teddy comes along and takes them away. It's not Teddy's fault. I don't blame him. In a way, he and I have become good friends, he is the only person who will never leave me. He is trapped in my hallway to execute my most painful and necessary tasks. He is consistent. He never grows, he never changes, he simply exists.
Some of the frames have never been filled. Some frames will probably never hold a picture. But each frame exists and is tended with the same care as the frames which hold pictures all the time. Some frames change their faces very often, some frames switch faces daily. But these frames are not the ones which mean the most to me. The frames which matter the most to me are often the ones which hang empty for months or years. It's easier to fill the frames which don't hold so much value in my eyes. The valuable ones hurt more when Teddy fetches his ladder.
Either way, important or unimportant, the frames never change. The role exists in my life, the only thing which is not certain is whether someone will fill that role or not.
My hallway of frames is growing as I grow. There are covered pictures gathering dust in the corner. Sometimes I go over and look at them, but not very often. They no longer exist in my life, so why should I waste time with them? Occasionally, when I look at an old photo, I find that I no longer care about it at all. These are the photos which I throw away, and they never return.
Overall, my hallway of frames makes sense in context with my personality. I strive for order, thrive in compartments and boxes. Every part of my life must be analyzed and labeled. The parts which are the hardest to categorize are often the parts which I avoid.
I tread through my hallway of frames with reverent steps. I smile at new additions, and mourn over recent losses. This is my reality, and within my reality I create imaginary havens like my hallway of frames. They are the unspoken places which provide me with delegation. No, I did not erase you from my life, Teddy did.
