Yours&Mine
The day she received the papers was the day their minds began playing the game of yours and mine.
It started like this:
TV: Mine.
Bed: Mine.
Computer: Yours.
Radio: Yours.
Soon enough they began to explore the house (the woman from the spare room in her mother’s attic and the man from the bed in the hotel room).
Make-Up: Yours because you are a woman.
Electric razor: Yours because you are a man.
Piano: Mine because only I can play it.
Toaster: Mine because I like toast.
Then humorously more specific:
The mood ring under the couch: Mine because I always got passionate and you were always angry.
The blue ball point pen in the downstairs drawer: Mine because I always sign things in ball point pen and blue’s my favorite color.
The placemat with the pressed leaves: Yours because you made it.
The cactus: Yours because it never sticks you and it always sticks me.
And in enough time there they were giving everything away.
The picture on the wall of your grandfather and his ugly brown dog: Yours because he is your grandfather and that is a really ugly brown dog.
The football: Mine because I’m the only one who throws it.
The dryer: Yours because I want the washer.
The washer: Yours because you probably want it and I’m probably going to get the dryer anyways.
The Christmas plates: Mine because you’d break them.
The seashell collection: Yours because you started it.
It didn’t take long before they got stuck in yesterdays, lists of anything they could remember and their rightful owners.
The time we walked through the river: Yours because you like that sort of stuff.
The time we found the constellations in the front yard: Yours because you know more than the big dipper.
That carnival in Mississippi with the really gross cotton candy: Yours because the cotton candy was really gross and I hated that clown with the green hair and the sharp teeth that looked more like It than a child’s playmate.
The time you fed a giraffe at the zoo: Yours because you laughed really hard.
The time we talked about kids and their names: Yours because you wanted to name a girl Guinevere and what kind of name is that for a kid?
The day you asked me to marry you: N/A.
Wedding Day: N/A
She held the papers in her hand and he pictured her doing so. They went over their lists again.
The time we talked about kids and their names: Mine because you wanted to name a boy Casey and I loved that name.
The time you fed a giraffe at the zoo: Mine because you laughed really hard and I forgot to take a picture.
The carnival in Mississippi with the really gross cotton candy: Mine because you were wearing the prettiest white dress and even though I hated the clown and cotton candy they had really great hot dogs and I still have the bear you won for me because I couldn’t win one for you.
The time we found constellations in the front yard: Mine because you gave me your sweater and then sat there shivering in your green t-shirt and I still remember how to find Orion’s Belt.
The time we walked through the river: Mine because it was cold and felt good on that day because it was like 95 degrees or something and you picked up the crawdad and it almost bit you and you screamed like a girl and I still don’t know if I’ve ever laughed that hard again.
The seashell collection: Mine because they are beautiful and you’re right that they’re the best things to collect.
The Christmas plates: Yours because you love Christmas more than anyone I’ve ever known.
The washer: Mine because you always put too much detergent and then everything in the house smells like flowers and when I do it, it just cancels out the stink.
The dryer: Mine because you always loved the way they used to hang clothes on clotheslines.
The football: Yours because you’re a female but you catch better than most of my friends.
The picture on the wall of your grandfather and his ugly brown dog: Mine because your grandfather is my favorite old man in the world and even though that dog is really ugly, it’d probably be cute if it had a bath.
The cactus: Mine because it never sticks you and it always sticks me and you always tease about that and not getting stuck by a cactus every day would feel weird.
The placemat with the pressed leaves: Mine because I love fall.
The blue ball point pen in the downstairs drawer: Yours because you write the best stories and the shade of this pen is my favorite shade of blue and I’m sure it would inspire something in you.
The mood ring under the couch: Yours because it always gets stuck on my finger: remember when you put that rose smelling lotion all over my hand and it still didn’t come off for like ten minutes and you found pliers and I made you put them away and then you threatened to take me to the hospital.
Toaster: Yours because you make the best cinnamon toast.
Piano: Yours because you liked the music and it’s not that hard to learn.
Electric razor: Yours because you are a man.
Make-Up: Yours because you are a woman.
Radio: N/A
Computer: N/A
Bed: N/A
TV: N/A
The third time they went through, nothing seemed applicable, nothing seemed to fit in the palm of one person’s hand and not the other's. In the end, nothing seemed to go anywhere but home.
