WHAT REMAINS

As the COVID-19 pandemic took hold, concerns for the environment diminished. Plastic gloves, chemical cleaners, and elastic banded masks filled the average shopping cart, only to be greeted with plastic bags at the check out. Necessary guidelines were implemented, including the ban of reusable bags at shopping centers, the donning of gloves with each foray, and the discouragement of carpooling, resulting in an ever expanding ball of plastic bags taking shape as we unpack the bounty concluding each foraging expedition. In the depths of quarantined isolation, my mind inevitably wandered to hypothesizing my expiration and the resulting abundance of ownerless objects. I began to consider not only the heirlooms, the art, and my grandmother's necklace, but also all of the detritus; the infinite plastic bag within a plastic bag; the scraps of paper accumulated over decades, containing memories that only I can recall; the well intended cache of recycling; my dogs baby teeth and petrified testicles; the hoses ruined by last winter’s early freeze, not yet dealt with...

As my mind worries it's way through the many possible outcomes, my hands seek solace in spinning webs out of what remains; the pulling and stretching of plastic bags, reshaping them into a thin line, which then becomes a chain, a circle, and in time, forms something entirely new: An adornment for the wall, a scrubby for the kitchen, or a coaster for the scotch.